


Oscar Kilo (O.K.)

by lecafemusain



Category: Line of Duty
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 199,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25980916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecafemusain/pseuds/lecafemusain
Summary: “You referred to me as a ‘patient’,” Steve notes, curious.The young woman's smile widens, “You know how police authorities are. They like to use technical, fanciful words just to make things sound more exciting and official than they are."He nods, understanding and hoping for this to be over with as soon as possible.“So, Steven Arnott, tell me about yourself?”
Relationships: Steve Arnott/Original Character, Steve Arnott/Reader
Comments: 78
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we have it! I am finally writing a Line of Duty fic. This fandom is DRY so I hope I quench your thirsts with this (hopefully glorious) looong, slooow burn about our favourite singular-brain-celled anticorruption officer! Make sure to subscribe, leave kudos and comment any thoughts or constructive feedback you may have! It would really help!
> 
> Enjoy!

“Welcome to Anticorruption,” Edward Hastings introduces to his newest recruit.

“As you can see,” he gestures unenthusiastically at the near-empty room, “we’ve got a number of active investigations at present.”

“Why are there so many empty desks?” Steve Arnott asks, underwhelmed.

Hastings sighs, “You should see it as a promotion, Steve. If you want to get anywhere in the job these days, Anticorruption’s a big tick on the old CV.”

“This will be good for me,” Steve says, trying to convince himself.

“That’s the ticket,” Hastings assures, watching the younger man’s eyes flit doubtfully around the office, “Your shooting. Do you have any idea how many people have died as a direct result of police action in the last ten years, Steve?”

He continues as Arnott shrugs, “Well, as with all firearms incidents, it’s gone upstairs to the IPCC. But Karim Ali, the man who was accidentally killed, he’s an illegal immigrant. So is his missus.”

Hastings watches as Arnott gulps, attempting to rid himself of his drying throat, “It wasn’t your fault, son. A clean break. Pastures new.”

Arnott nods, slowly. Patting him on the back, Hastings gestures for the man to follow him, “I have a very special case for you.”

“What’s the case?”

“All in good time,” Hastings pauses outside the door of a small meeting room on the far side of the office, “But first, we have a policy at the AC-12 unit which involves our newest recruits meeting with a counsellor before their first briefing.”

“Counselling?” Arnott questions, unfamiliar with such a protocol.

Hastings chuckles, knocking on the door, “Our colleague, Beth, is a wellbeing officer for Central Police. She offers to put together a basic psychological profile of each officer and staff, just so we can work out what cases and resources are best for you to work with and how you can best work with us.”

At that moment, the door opens revealing a woman, Arnott assesses not much younger than himself. She smiles at Hastings before turning to look at the other man, extending a hand, “You must be Steven Arnott.”

He takes her hand in a firm shake, prompting her to continue with a soft smile, “Elizabeth Thornton.”

Steve nods in recognition as he looks confused between the two before him, “I don’t need counselling.”

“The profiling is necessary just for Central Police records; however, any following appointments or support is entirely voluntary,” the woman explains, clearly rehearsed as if she has explained it hundreds of times before.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Hastings pats him on the shoulder once more and walks away to an office a few doors down. The woman stands aside to invite Steve into the small room. Closing the door behind him, she moves to a chair on the opposite side of the table, pulling another out beside her. She gestures for him to sit.

“I already spoke to my superiors about what happened,” he remains standing. Surely, he will not be expected to have another interrogation over the accidental killing of Karim Ali. This transfer was supposed to be a fresh start.

Once in her seat, she turns to him, “Oh, this isn’t an interview, just a conversation.”

The woman watches as the man reluctantly sits down before continuing, “You can tell me as much or as little as you like, AC-12 just wants to get an idea of who they have hired.”

“You say AC-12 as if you’re not employed by them,” Steve prompts.

“Technically, I work for Central Police Head Office and meet with officers from several of their branches. But I am mostly stationed here, my office is just across the room,” she points with her pen through the window.

“Do you prefer Steven or Steve? Or something else?” she asks, putting her pen to the form in front of her.

“Steve.”

She nods, scribbling more details onto the form.

“What about you? The Superintendent called you Beth.”

The woman looks up, the gentle smile still on her face, “Most people call me Liz. Elizabeth or Beth are also fine, I am not offended either way.”

She continues writing on her form for a moment before putting it down in front of her. “Now, as this is our first meeting I just have to go through some boring legal titbits before we can get started,” the woman begins before Steve has the chance to ask any more of the questions she can see running around behind his eyes, “Apologies, this can take a while. But I will get straight into it.”

Steve shifts in his chair as she pulls out a transcript, holding it in front of her yet still looking at him. He watches as Elizabeth clears her throat and begins to repeat the transcript, not once needing to look at the paper, “Anything that is said in this room or in my counsel is confidential under the Data Protection Act of 1998. If you believe at any point information has been leaked to an external source, this may result in criminal liability, civil action, or investigation by a regulating council. At this time, that would be Superintendent Edward Gerard Hastings and Senior Legal Counsel Gill Biggeloe. I just want to assure you personally that the reputational risk is not one I am willing to make. However, I must tell you that a patient’s right to confidentiality is not absolute and there will be circumstances that arise that permit and perhaps even require myself to breach confidence and make a disclosure to an appropriate authority, be that the police, social services or a parent, in the case of a child. This breach of confidentiality will only, however, be lawful if authorised by the patient or the law.”

She leans back in her seat, throwing the piece of paper to the other end of the table, “Phew, glad that is over!”

  
“You referred to me as a ‘patient’,” Steve notes, curious.

  
Her smile widens, rolling her eyes, “You know how police authorities are. They like to use technical, fanciful words just to make things sound more exciting and official than they are. As I said, this meeting is just an initial profiling so we can help find suitable cases and resources for you. No pressure at all to impress or apply for further wellbeing workshops beyond the next, say, thirty minutes.”

  
The young man nods, understanding and hoping for this to be over with as soon as possible.

  
“So, Steven Arnott, tell me about yourself?”

* * *

Ted Hastings glances at his watch. Forty-seven minutes is a long time for a man who seemed so reluctant. Through his office window, he watches as the meeting room door opens with Arnott emerging first. He notes the hint of uncertainty still etched onto the young man's face, yet his chest swells at the refreshed determination of his brow.

As Elizabeth steps out of the meeting room, Hastings opens his office door and waves to catch her attention. She smiles politely, responding to the gesture, before turning to Steve.

“Most of these spots aren’t taken so please feel free to help yourself to any desk you like,” she kindly offers, “Thank you, again, for doing that. I know it took a while, especially when you just want to get started, but I believe it is beneficial to the efficiency of this and other units. Pleasure to meet you.”

“And you, Liz,” Steve once again accepts the woman’s hand with a shake, then watches as she walks across the office to Hastings. As the door closes behind them, Steve surveys the space, looking for a desk.  
  
“Well?” Hastings prompts, closing the door behind her and offering her a seat.

“Now, Ted, you know I am bound by legal confidentiality,” she teases as she sits down, tucking her appointment folder further under her arm, “But I like him.”

Ted sighs in relief, easing into his desk-chair.

“A little bit grumpy and perhaps the tiniest bit dramatic, but he seems decent enough to know right from wrong. We both know that’s often hard to come by.”

“True, absolutely true,” Ted smiles, “Admittedly, I was unsure of authorising the transfer.”

“You shouldn’t be. You know I can’t tell you what he has told me about the Ali incident, but I can assure you he has a strong morality. Might even become a problem for you,” she chuckles at the older man's raised eyebrow, “You did a good job finding him.”

“Glad to hear it,” Ted grins, “I am putting him on the Gates case.”

Elizabeth sits up straighter in her chair, surprised, “For his first go?”

“Why not? From what you have said he seems ideal.”

She looks out to the young man sat at a far-off desk, looking a little lost, “Just keep an eye on him. I don’t think he is fully convinced by all this yet.”

“I will take him with me to interview Gates tomorrow, see how he does,” Ted explains, pulling her attention back to the older man.

“Please, let me know!” she pleads as she stands from her chair.

“You don’t want a tea?”

Opening the door, she turns back to Hastings, “Sorry, not now. I have to type up my appointment notes so I can get that profile sent to you and HO. Keep me updated.”

With a small wave, she closes Hastings’ door behind her. Walking past Steve’s newly chosen desk to her office, she gives the young man an encouraging smile. He returns a seemingly characteristic, uncertain nod. _Now, this will be interesting._

* * *

Steve arrives back at AC-12, glad to be catching a break after another unsuccessful visit to TO-20 squad, and trying not to notice the amount of eyes on him. Pity, annoyance, sympathy - he is unable to determine. All he knows is everyone in the office is watching him. Spotting Hastings across the room, he takes a deep breath and approaches. As he nears, he notices Liz stood beside him, both speaking to each other in hushed tones.

“What is going on?” he asks, saying it loud enough to alert them of his presence.

Liz is the first to turn, a look in her eye he saw several times throughout their meeting. Not quite pity, the glint in her eye was not so harsh. More empathy.

“Come with me. Let’s talk outside,” Hastings instructs, leading him away from the desks and prying ears. Steve is unsure why, it seems everyone besides himself knows anyway.

Once out of the office, Hastings does not hesitate to end his confusion, “The corridor has set a date to reopen the inquest into Karim Ali's death. They are going to ask you to testify.”

“Only to be expected,” Steve mutters, to Hastings' surprise. The young man clearly did not understand the situation as well as he has assumed.

“The firearms officers are revisiting their statements. They are saying you sent them to the wrong flat,” Hastings turns to watch Steve's face contort into one of realisation then betrayed disappointment.

When the young man struggles to find anything to say, Hastings continues, “I am fighting your corner. But this can’t not affect your position here, Steve.”

Watching the man slowly nod in understanding once more, Hastings turns back into the office. Steve listens to the door close harshly behind him, as if a taunting metaphor for his chances at becoming a decent officer closing to him. He is almost tempted to laugh at the irony of it. And yet, he hears the door reopen.

“Steve?” he hears Liz ask, “Steve, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he lies, “I saw it coming.”

They stand in a silence for a moment before she moves closer to him. Liz speaks, attempting to reassure the quiet but clearly devastated man in front of her, “Hastings told me he assigned you to the Gates case. He must trust you, see potential. A big case for a first go.”

Steve says nothing, just turns his head to look out of the window. She sighs, folding her arms, quietly frustrated he is closing off, “I also heard about the.. the faeces in your car.”

At that, Steve turns his head to her a little, brow beginning to crease again. He thought she was meant to be trying to reassure him, not remind him how, well, shit his first week at this department was going.

“I know I shouldn’t say this as impartiality is the golden rule of my job, but what a bunch of absolute arseholes. High-school bullying? They are supposed to be police officers, grown men. Beyond immature. You’re just doing your job, as they should be too.”

Liz takes some pride in seeing Steve's shoulders begin to relax a little. This urges her to continue, “And quite frankly, what disgusts me most of all is how the hell they got it in there.”

She hears Steve let out a breath, sounding almost like a laugh as he finally turns to look at her. Liz sees his lips are pursed, as if he is trying not to smile. That makes her grin. He finds himself doing it too.

“Look, you know where my office is. Feel free to come and speak to me whenever you need it. That is what I am here for. Even if it is just to blow off some steam,” her grin widens, “You would be surprised how many times a day someone knocks on my door, just screams, then thanks me and leaves. Quite unsettling actually. Seems to help though.”

He just nods his head, once again trying to suppress his smile. Liz’s grin turns into a smirk, satisfied her job there is done.

“I need to type up some more reports, but feel free to pop by later.”

“I have a date this evening,” Steve states, unsure why he felt the need to share that. It seems, just as he did in his initial session with this woman, he feels an urge to overshare. He feels his cheeks begin to heat slightly as she smiles at him, sure she will tease.

“Oh, how nice! I hope you have fun, will be good to take your mind off all this nonsense!” he watches her, surprised, as she turns to walk back to the office, “I’ll see you soon! Good luck!”

Steve watches the doors close behind her, relieved it no longer sounds so harsh.

* * *

“Morning, boys,” Liz sighs, groaning as an arm swings around her shoulders.

“There she is!”

“Morning, Mr Kapoor,” she attempts to smile at the man beside her.

“How many times, Queenie?” he leans in closer to her, prompting her to step out of his arms, “Call me Deepak.”

“That would be highly unprofessional and suggest a more intimate relationship than that of a counsellor and her client,” she scolds, trying to put as much space as she can between herself and the young DC as they walked further into the office.

“Would that be so bad?” he grins, revelling in her clear discomfort.

She rolls her eyes, having learnt it was better to keep quiet than supply the TO-20 squad with ammunition.

“Who are you here for?”

“Morton,” Liz answers to Matthew ‘Dot’ Cottan, who had been the one to ask.

“Lucky bastard,” he replies with a aggravating grin and exaggerated sigh, earning a chuckle from the other men.

Liz resists the urge to roll her eyes again, instead fleeting them over to the woman sat at the furthest desk outside Gates’ office. To anyone else, the brunette woman’s face would be blank, devoid of emotion. But not to Liz – she knew Kate Fleming better than anyone. In the second-long glance they shared, she saw annoyance flash across her eyes. Clearly, Kate was not impressed by their antics and asked a silent question if her friend was alright. Liz sends her a small smile, _it’s fine_ , before turning away as to not arouse suspicion, knowing Kate is undercover again.

“Queenie!” Liz’s attention is forcefully claimed by the man with the cane approaching her.

“Shall we get started? I have another appointment in an hour,” a lie. She just did not want to spend longer than she needed to alone in a room with that man. But she reminds herself it is her job and she desperately needs the research. Liz leads the way into the small meeting room in the corner of the office. Placing her bag on the table and pulling out her notebook, she hears the men in the room outside whistle some sort of innuendo. She doesn’t know what and doesn’t care. Liz has learnt to block it out. She is there to get a job done and to get out and on with her day.

“So, Mr Morton,” she begins, taking a seat and watching as the man sits opposite her, carefully placing his cane against the table, “why did you request this appointment?”

“Do I need a reason other than just wanting to see you?” he leers.

She breathes in heavily through her nose, trying to circulate something other than disgust through her veins, “Actually, yes. I am a busy woman- “

The door opening interrupts her attempt to scold the aggravating man in front of her. It is Dot, “Guess who is outside making a right tit of himself?”

She hears Morton chuckle and stand from his chair, holding onto his cane, “Oh, this will be good.”

Liz, not understanding but highly grateful for there to have been an interruption to this meeting, picks up her bag and follows. A crowd has gathered in the car park. Passing by Kate who gives her a brief, worried glance, Liz pushes her way past some of the staff to see what is causing the commotion.

She sighs.

Steve Arnott.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! thank you so much for reading, especially those of you who have left kudos or comments!  
> sorry the chapters are quite short to begin with, I ma hoping they expand as the story does!  
> as always, please leave kudos, comments and subscribe - but most of all; enjoy!

“I want this car impounded as evidence,” Liz hears Steve demand. She watches as he walks to the driver’s door, attempting to open it, “I want it cordoned off and I want him kept away from it.”

Gates, who Steve had pointed to, lets out a bitter laugh, “Then get yourself a warrant.”

Steve goes to open the boot to find it locked, setting off the car alarm. Liz cringes at the noise, followed by cruel sniggers from the men around her. The wide grin on Gates’ face was the most infuriating of them all, as he pulls out his keys and turns off the alarm. Steve glares at the man before opening the boot, immediately inspecting the contents.

“What are you looking for, Shergar?” Morton taunts, earning a laugh from the other staff. Liz rolls her eyes, reminded how much she dislikes that man and the way the others encourage his behaviour.

Steve slams the empty boot closed and strides to confront Gates, “He wiped down the whiskey bottle and we know a glass is missing from the crime scene.”

Liz, unknowing of the details of the case and what Steve is referring to, watches warily as Gates squares up to him. Steve continues, “He took it ‘cause it’s the only thing that prove she was there.”

Steve walks away to the passenger door as Dot, stood beside her, joins in the taunting to the others’ amusement, “Now you’re screwed, Tone. He’s onto your George Michael CDs.”

Liz shoots him an unimpressed scowl, to which the taller man simply shrugs with a proud chuckle. Turning behind her to the branch building, Liz catches the attention of Kate. The pair share a concerned look, Kate rolling her eyes slightly as she turns back to watch Steve.

Clearly unsuccessful finding anything incriminating, Steve slams the car door shut and turns scathingly to the TO-20 squad.

“We done?” Gates cruelly jeers, exaggeratedly holding up his keys and locking the car door following Steve’s infuriated silence.

At that, Liz watches as many of the staff turn to re-enter the building. Gates gives Steve one more furious yet gloating glare before going inside himself. Morton, patting Gates on the back turns to Liz who remains stood, watching Steve give her a timid look before putting his hands in his jacket pockets and turning to leave himself.

“Finish where we left off?” Morton smirks.

“I’m late to my next appointment,” Liz lies, again, not even looking at him with her gaze still on Steve, “Email me to reschedule.”

With that, she walks away. Skipping a little to catch up with Steve, who Liz mentally notes was a surprisingly fast walker for such a short man, she calls for him. He turns to look at her, clearly puzzled as to why she was there. She can also tell by his slightly distracted look his mind is overflowing with thoughts of what just happened.

“Everything ok?” she asks, something Steve is learning to expect from her anytime they interact.

“He’s lying,” Steve insists.

Liz sighs, him having ignored her question, “There’s a coffee shop just around the corner. Fancy a drink? Only if you’re not busy.”

Steve, knowing he now has no leads despite the whiskey glass he just failed to find, agrees. Liz smiles satisfied they can now talk and get to the bottom of what is bothering him. Hopefully, she can help organise all those thoughts she can see swimming behind his eyes.

* * *

“What are you having?” Liz asks the man stood beside her, a brooding scowl on his face that seemed to be growing more familiar to her.

“Oh I’ll get m-"

“No, no. My treat,” she smiles as his brooding brow raises, “Looks like you need it.”

Steve nods, “A flat white then, thanks.”

“Alright then,” she turns from him to the barista behind the counter, “a flat white and a hot chocolate. With whipped cream. And some marshmallows if you have any. Cheers!”

Liz places her coins on the counter and turns to Steve, who is looking at her with the smallest hint of an amused smile.

“What? I worked hard today, I deserve it,” she grins, taking the orders from the counter and walking him over to a booth by the window.

As they sat, she pushes the coffee towards him. Steve thanks her again, bringing it to his lips and taking a sip.

“So,” she begins before taking a sip herself, groaning slightly at the pleasant taste of her hot chocolate and wiping some excess cream from the side of her mouth, “want to tell me what happened back there?”

He sighs, averting his gaze to the street outside the window to avoid her studious stare, “What were _you_ doing there, anyway?”

Liz hums at his attempt to divert the conversation, “Most branches in the Midlands don’t have wellbeing officers, so I offer appointments across several offices. TO-20 included.”

“Who were you there to see? Gates?” he asks, hopeful she may have some information that could assist him on the case.

“Nigel Morton,” she says with a roll of her eyes, taking a large gulp of her hot chocolate.

“That must be fun.”

“Steve Arnott, did you just make a joke?” she teasingly guffaws.

He shakes his head, an unfamiliar smile lighting up his cheeks. Liz beams at the sight.

“Honestly, though? No, it is not fun at all,” she takes another swig of her drink. Steve thinks she is imagining it to be something stronger, whiskey perhaps, judging by the speed she necks it down, “I, of course, can’t say what he talks to me about but there wouldn’t be much to say if I could. He leeches at me, mostly.”

Steve's grip tightens on his coffee cup, feeling the heat slightly burn his hand. As if he needed another reason to greatly dislike the man.

Liz notices he has gone quiet, “It is alright, though. Nothing I can’t handle. I have met many insecure men who feel objectifying and intimidating women is the way to acceptance among colleagues. But it is my job, has to be done.”

He feels his grip on the cup loosen as she reassures him, “Is there no one else you could send instead?”

“And subject some other poor young woman to it?” her eyebrows raise, shaking her head, “It is really fine, I need the research. Besides, there aren’t many others to ask. Out of the few wellbeing officers in the country, I am one of a very small minority that offers one-on-ones beyond initial meetings.”

Steve nods slowly, wanting to ask more. He was never offered wellbeing services during his time in counter-terrorism. At least, not beyond HR complaint forms, and everyone knows they are ignored. Before he gets the chance, however, she pops a marshmallow into her mouth, pushes her cup to the side and leans forward onto her forearms.

“Now, as I am a counsellor, do you want me to read into you not answering my question and come to my own answers, or do you want to tell me what is happening?”

Steve quietly sighs, knowing he cannot put off the conversation any longer. That unexplainable force she has, pulling him to overshare once again. She seems to know about the case already, presumably from Hastings. So, he explains to her everything he knows so far about the Gates case; laddering, Laverty, going to his house, his wife denying the alibi, the _damn_ whisky glass.

He inhales as he finishes while the woman across from him exhales, “You should expect quite a bollocking from Ted when we get back.”

Liz watches the man in front of her deflate, eyes snapping to the window again and fingers agitatedly picking at the logo stuck to the coffee cup, “But, I am sure he will see you did it for the case's best interest.”

Steve's fingers pause and he turns back to look at her as she speaks, “You saw a lead and you followed it through. That’s not exactly an undesirable quality for an officer. When it comes down to it, you were just doing your job.”

She send him a small, encouraging smile but he does not yet look convinced, prompting her to continue, “I said it before in our appointment; I know Ted. Hastings would not have personally suggested and authorised the transfer if he did not think you were up to it. He is a great judge of character. And you chose the moral standpoint over the personal cost when they tried to cover up the Ali incident. That is exactly what Anticorruption is. That is exactly what an Anticorruption officer needs to be.”

Liz clears her throat slightly as she finishes, relaxing back into her seat. Picking up her cup to finish the last of her hot chocolate, she notices Steve blankly staring at her.

No one has ever assured him like that. All his life he has had to fight to be heard, to be understood. Especially after the events of the last few months, he has lost all faith in others in the force - and himself. The last week in Anticorruption and investigating the Gates case has only made him doubt his ability as an officer even further, with no one seeming to be on his side or even attempt to understand him. And yet, this woman, who he has only known a short while has managed to give him a new sense of pride in his work. Perhaps, he could admit, he went to far with Gates' car. But she is right. He is, fundamentally and no matter how much he looks like a fool or is beaten down by others, standing up for what is right.

Steve feels himself sit up a little straighter, “Thank you, Liz.”

“You’re welcome. Besides, it is my job,” she jokes, “So, if you ever need another ego boost just pop by my office or send an email and we can do this again.”

Liz grins as he laughs, relieved to see the weight of the Gates and Ali cases eased from his shoulders, if only by a little.

* * *

The pair returned to the office, signing in and scanning their passes to open the door. Liz turns to him as they reach her office, it being the closest to the department entrance.

“Like I said, if you need me, I’ll be here,” she offers, opening her door.

Steve nods and goes to leave for his desk, until she calls for him again, “I have made a career out of reading people. If you don’t trust Hastings' judgement, trust mine.”

Steve only looks at her, unsure how to respond. The last few months he has spent surrounded by selfishness and deceivers. But Liz was not that. She seemed different. Thankfully different. He might still be doubting himself – but he _does_ trust her. He goes to thank her once again-

“Arnott!!”

The pair, and half the office, turn at the sound of Hastings opening his office door. Steve almost cowers under his bitter glare. But with one more glance to Liz and remembering her reassurances, he straightens his shoulders and looks Hastings in the eye, ready to confront his disappointment and stand by his own instincts.

“Sir.”

“My office. Now.”

He follows after the older man, taking a deep breath as he does so.

“Good luck, Steve,” he hears Liz whisper, sympathetically.

He turns to her again while walking, catching her small, encouraging smile before turning into her office and closing the door behind her.

Once at her desk, Liz turns her computer on in the hopes to distract herself with work. She worries for Steve. She knows, if more than anyone, how frightening it can be stood in Hastings' line of fire. The young man is brash and uncertain – the performance at TO-20 was humiliatingly naïve. But she meant what she said. She only hopes he grows to trust her enough to believe her.

“You’re _way_ over the line here, son. _Way_ over the line!” she hears Hastings shout.

Cringing, she opens up her email and gets back to work scheduling appointments.

* * *

“Don’t know how you’re putting up with that lot,” Liz shakes her head at the woman sat opposite her in the meeting room, making sure to keep her voice low, “I would be out there blowing my cover just to get away after a few hours. Damn the investigation.”

“I don’t know how I do it either,” Kate laughs quietly, looking to the door, “To be honest, they haven’t given me much bother.”

“Yeah, seems you really fit in,” Liz jokingly feigns suspicion, knowing Kate couldn’t be any less like the TO-20 squad.

Kate shrugs, “What can I say? Too good at my job.”

Liz nods, knowing that to be true. Kate was the best UCO AC-12 has. That was evident from the long record of successful cases in the three years they worked together in the AC-12 office and the many more since they met at training.

“I feel terrible just sitting there when they hound you like they do,” Kate admits.

Liz shakes her head, “You’re just doing your job, I understand. I’ve learnt to just ignore it.”

“Still, if I hear Morton make one more suggestive comment about you, I might just punch him.”

“And blow your cover? No, I’ll just punch him myself.”

“Well, _that_ is something I would love to see,” Kate laughs at Liz's feigned offence. Liz was one of the gentlest people she knew. She might dislike someone, but her empathy always came first.

“I’m glad we get to see each other this time though,” Liz admits, happy she is able to see her friend in public despite her being undercover. Being assigned as a wellbeing officer to the TO-20 branch meant they had a cover if they were seen together. These appointments with Kate were a perfect opportunity to catch up, and for Liz to make sure her friend was safe.

“Bless. Missing me, Thornton?” Kate teases.

“You know I do,” Liz admits, sincerely, “Usually when you’re undercover I don’t get to see you for weeks, months even.”

“You worry more than Mark does,” Kate quips, knowing Liz spends that time concerned for her.

“Because that poor man doesn’t know what you’re heading into. Or not the details, anyway. I do,” Liz sighs.

Kate reaches for her friend's arm, “I'm fine. If I weren’t up to it, I wouldn’t have volunteered. After all, not exactly my first infiltration.”

“Oh, I know. I am not questioning your ability at all, you know that,” Liz takes a breath, wanting to turn the conversation from such a sombre tone. Besides, she only gets an hour alone with her friend, “Just not sure how much more I can handle being on my own in the office with all the testosterone in the air. It’s suffocating.”

“Hastings?” Kate questions with a smile.

Liz nods, “He’s had a bit of a hard time teaching Arnott how you do things.”

Kate hums. Liz assumes she is having her doubts about her new colleague, especially judging by the look she gave her in the car park.

Liz sighs, “You’re unsure about him?

Kate folds her arms, “Well, let’s say I had a hard time covering up my embarrassment the other day.”

“I know, but he is only trying his best to prove his implication of Gates.”

“Feels like he has something to prove.”

Liz nods, knowing Kate is right. That was something she noted during their first appointment and, admittedly, was rather eager to work out.

Kate continues, “It seemed desperate. He’s impulsive.”

“Maybe, but you don’t know him well enough yet to know whether his impulses are justified.”

“And you do?” Kate challenges, knowing her friend will have written a profile for him.

“He chose to stand up for what was right rather than bend under the pressure to falsely testify after the shooting incident. He knew doing so could easily turn it on himself yet made the right moral decision. We both know more than most that isn’t common in police-work. He did not choose the easy choice,” Liz explains, seeing Kate thinking it over, “He can be impulsive, sure. Arrogant, maybe. But I think he has what it takes.”

Kate nods slowly, trusting the other woman’s judgement, “Shame he couldn’t see it through, then.”

Liz pauses putting her notebook in her bag, “What do you mean?”

“Hastings hasn’t told you?”

Liz shakes her head, “I’ve been busy so haven’t seen him for a while. You know what that man has against phones.”

Kate sighs, pulling her phone out of her trouser pocket. She turns the phone to Liz, who takes it from her to read the message on the screen.

Steve Arnott (work): _I am the wrong man for the job. Gates has won._


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day? oooh I am obviously eager!

“Glad you could make it,” Hastings says to Kate as himself and Liz approach her. They had arranged to meet in an underpass away from both the offices, as to not be seen. Liz waves to Kate as they arrive, all here to discuss Steve Arnott.

“Sir, I want to call him,” Kate immediately states. Sure, she had her reservations about the man, especially after the performance with Gates’ car. But she saw how disappointed Liz had been when she read the text that he had given up. Liz was right, he was just doing the job, albeit on his own terms. Her friend made a good point, as she always does, about him being morally straight despite all the chances he was proposed to give in to the pressure. He was the only one with credible leads on Gates that went beyond laddering. They needed him. Besides, Kate had no doubt Liz was beating herself up about not doing enough to persuade him to stay. She was like that, taking on everyone else’s problems and then treating them as if they were hers to resolve.

“I am winding down the operation,” Hastings claims, to both the women’s disappointment. Liz had spent the last few hours trying to persuade Hastings to convince Steve to come back. She had hoped seeing Kate would help to do so too. But now, it seemed Hastings was more willing to close the entire operation than call him.

“Sir, please,” Kate appeals, holding out her phone as if to stress how easy it would be to send the call.

“Hilton says he is willing to side-line Gates so long as we back off,” Hastings sighs, “But that was before we lost Steve.”

“Assign another officer,” Kate pleads.

“Haven’t got the manpower, Kate,” Hastings explains, “I’m ten-percent down already on my budget to counter-terrorism. Why throw good money after bad?”

Kate remains quiet, not wanting to speak out against her Superintendent. Liz, who had been silent until that point, believing it not to be her place as she was not an investigator, speaks up, “Ted, you’re being drastic.”

Hastings almost chokes, his eyes bulging.

Liz continues despite the older man’s shocked face, “Are you really going to let Kate’s undercover work for the past few months be for nothing? She has sacrificed all her time - time she could have spent with her family, her _son_ \- for this case and you’re just going to throw it away because Steve Arnott doesn’t think he can do it?”

Hastings remains silent. Kate’s eyes widen a little, but she is pleased. Liz always looked out for her and was voicing exactly what she felt. No one would be able to talk down to Hastings like this, except for Elizabeth Thornton.

“You’re his boss. You hired him. You know what that man is going through with the Ali case, and how conflicted he is feeling. Surely you owe him some encouragement, an explanation as to why you hired him in the first place?”

“He is no longer our responsibility,” Hastings finally manages to retort back.

“Steve Arnott became my responsibility the day you brought him to my office. He became your responsibility the day you authorised his transfer,” she argues, frustrated at Hastings’ unconvinced expression, “Besides that, your responsibility is to expose and bring down corrupt officers. And to bring down Gates, you need Arnott.”

“We have got him for what we wanted originally,” Hastings explains to the two women, both burning his cheeks with their disappointed glares, “professional conduct and general duties.”

“Laddering?” Kate questions, emboldened by Liz’s defiance, “We don’t have him for perverting the course of justice, for complicity in murder and manslaughter.”

“Listen, his career’s over. Job done. Right?” He looks between the two as they both raise their eyebrows at him.

Liz folds her arms as Kate bitingly pleads, “I have spent months on this operation, sir.”

“I’m calling you in, Kate,” Hastings asserts.

Kate huffs at Liz before looking her superior in the eye, “No way, sir. I can nail him myself.”

With one final look to Liz, who holds a sympathetic yet thankful expression, Kate walks away. Liz stands by Hastings as they watch her leave. Looking up to the older man, Liz exhales at the weary look on his face.

“If you don’t at least think about it for Steve Arnott or for Kate, consider it for me,” Liz implores, quietly.

She hears Hastings sigh beside her before walking away herself.

* * *

Steve watches from a distance as the procession makes its way to the grave site, thoughts running so fast in his head he fails to catch one. He sees Ms Ali lead the way, cradling their child as she lets out several strangled sobs – each one biting at his soul.

“So, this is where you are?” he hears a quiet, gentle voice approach him.

Turning, he sees it is Liz. She is dressed in black trousers and coat, signifying to him she knew he would be here; at the funeral of Karim Ali.

He does not greet her, knowing why she is there. He just turns back to the group huddled around the open grave, watching as the coffin is slowly lowered into it.

“Poor bastard’s been in the morgue for weeks,” he explains, morose, “Three post-mortems.”

“We talked about this. It wasn’t your fault, Steve,” she urges, keeping her gaze on the ceremony, trying to imagine how Steve must be feeling.

Liz hears the ground crack as he shifts his weight, uncomfortable, “I should have done more to challenge the fahrenheit order.”

She looks at him then, as he goes on to deject, “He would still be alive.”

Liz slowly moves closer to him, noting how his darkened eyes gaze at the coffin. She swallows, hoping to disrupt his bleak guilt with news of the case, “Kate is still undercover, you know?”

Liz picks up on him turning his head to her slightly, gaze still fixated. She continues, “She hasn’t given up.”

“Yeah, well she can sit in judgement on Gates,” he spits, thinking Liz to be bitterly accusing him of doing so, “Who am I to?”

Liz remains quiet, unsure how to answer. That is a matter for his own conscience, not something she can persuade. Saddened, she realises his guilt over Ali’s death is deeper than she first believed. She wants to help, of course. But that isn’t something she can do unless he returns to the branch and asks to be on her client-list. And the branch needs him back to bring Gates down. And so, she must persuade him.

“She’s on her own out there,” Liz explains, referring to Kate, “She needs you. Hastings needs you.”

Steve snickers, unconvinced, “Hastings won’t want me back.”

“Oh, really?” it is Liz’s turn to chuckle, “Well, guess who drove me here?”

Steve turns to look at her, catching an amused smile begin to grow on her face. He looks beyond her down the path to see the older man leaning against a car, parked beside his own. Liz smirks at the surprise on his face, revelling in pride her and Kate managed to finally convince Hastings of Steve's importance to the unit.

Looking back at the gathering, Steve watches as the grave is filled in with dirt. To Steve, it symbolised the end of that guilt. The trial still loomed, Brackley having complicated his decision to testify against the victim when meeting him at the pub the night before. But Karim Ali was at peace. Steve did not fight to save him, but he can fight to bring him, his wife and child justice. Whatever happens with Osborne and the counter-terrorism force, Steve would fight to bring down any corrupt officer who manipulates their authority and privileges to ruin lives. Gates included.

After a moment’s contemplation, he looks back at the woman, giving her a characteristic nod.

Liz smiles, “Welcome back.”

* * *

A few hours later, Liz is in her office, typing up her most recent appointment notes. Steve had recently left to liaison with Kate, seemingly once again fully invested in the investigation. Taking a sip of her hot chocolate, something she had bought on the way to the office to congratulate herself on re-recruiting Steve Arnott, Liz receives a text from Kate.

Kate: _Thank you x_

Liz smiles, knowing she must have just met with Steve.

Liz: _No problem! Thank YOU! X_

Liz: _Now, go get that bastard._

* * *

Steve opens the door for the solicitor and Morton, waiting for him to limp past before closing it behind them. The interview had been unsuccessful, to say the least. He walks over to the water fountain with a sigh. Filling a cup for himself, he turns to look down the corridor at Morton continuing to hobble away, passing Dot with a sly thumbs up. To his surprise, Liz was walking up the corridor towards him, a file under her arm.

As she passes Morton, Steve watches as the man winks at her, Liz rolling her eyes and continuing determinedly in his direction.

“Liz,” he greets as she approaches him. 

“Hey,” Liz smiles as she comes to a stop beside him, “I heard you and Ted were interviewing TO-20. I know how difficult those men can be. Thought I could give you something that might help.”

He raises a brow at her as she turns to look at Dot and his lawyer sat not too far from them.

“Could we talk in private?” she says quietly, gesturing down the corridor and further away from Cottan. Steve follows, coming to a stop before the interview room.

“How is it going so far?” Liz asks.

Steve sighs.

Liz hums, unsurprised, “Let me guess. Morton said ‘no comment' to everything.”

Steve agrees, confused by the squad's loyalty when they _know_ , “Whatever we were saying, we just couldn’t get to him.”

“Well, that’s where I think I could help,” she says, holding out the files in her hand.

Steve finishes his water and throws away the plastic cup. He takes the files from her, opening them to flick through, “What’s this?”

“Matthew Cottan's appointment notes,” she watches Steve's eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Are you allowed to give me these?”

“I have redacted any information that I don’t think is necessary,” Liz explains, folding her arms, “But left in something you could use to put on a bit of pressure.”

Steve looks at her, silently urging her to continue. Liz moves her body slightly to block her face entirely from Cottan down the corridor, “He had a gambling problem. In 2009, he was given a dereliction of duty warning. Was in a lot of debt, lost his wife – it was rather messy. I was assigned to do sessions with him as part of his rehabilitation deal to stay in the force. We only ended up meeting twice. Didn't seem to need it anymore. Had a big turn around when Gates took him in.”

Steve nods, understanding, “That’s why he is so loyal to him.”

“Exactly. I think he feels he owes him,” Liz says, “Just thought it might be useful.”

Steve closes the file and tucks it under his arm, “Thank you. Are you sure I should have that information?”

“Technically it is all public. Like I said, I blacked out everything else to make sure it didn’t breach confidentiality,” Liz shrugs, “Let me know how it goes.” 

“Sure. Thanks, again.”

“No problem, it is just some files-"

“No, I mean, for all of it. Persuading me.”

“Oh,” Liz softly smiles, taken back by his sincerity, “Good to have you back.”

Steve sends her a small smile back, aware of Cottan having turned to look in their direction, “I should go back in.”

“Yeah, of course,” Liz waves, turning to leave, “Good luck!”

Steve watches her walk away, effortlessly avoiding eye contact with Cottan as she passes him.

“Matthew Cottan,” he calls, gesturing with his head to the room. He leads them in with Liz's folder tucked securely under his arm.

* * *

“You look like you’re about to explode,” Liz comments as Steve, who had just knocked on her office door, sits in the chair opposite her desk, “Did the interviews not go well? Did Cottan not budge?”

“Gates is reframing the investigation into the Moss Heath and Laverty murders as the work of a terrorist cell,” Steve explains, bluntly in an attempt to keep his anger in check.

“You’re joking,” she sighs, not knowing much about the cases themselves but knowing how difficult this must be for Steve to take.

“He accused me, to my face and in front of everyone, of having let the real terrorists go and he is _cleaning up my mess_ ,” Steve bitterly quotes, grounding himself by gripping his thigh.

Liz studies the furious man before her as he breathes heavily. He looks tired.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Liz scoots her chair a little closer to his around the desk, “He knows about the shooting?”

She sees him grip his thigh harder, “Must have found my information somewhere. They all knew.”

Liz sighs again. That’s all she seems to do when Steve Arnott is around.

“I saw Brackley,” Steve suddenly claims, turning in his chair to face her directly, “He invited me for a drink.”

Liz took a moment to remember who Brackley was, then remembers from their initial appointment. Colin Brackley was the authorised Firearms Officer for the Counter Terrorism command. He was the one who shot Karim Ali.

“What did he say?”

“He said him and others in the Strategic Firearms Command are getting ‘twitchy’ about me intending to tell the truth of what happened,” Steve rubs his forehead with his hand, as if trying to wipe away the ache that was growing there, “Wanted me to go along with the cover story.”

“And will you?” Liz asks, concerned the moral stance she praised him for to Kate, Hastings and even himself was faulting.

“No,” he says to her relief, “An innocent man was killed.”

Liz nods, agreeing he is making the right decision and glad she had read him right the first time they met.

“He felt guilty,” Steve continues, “I could see it in his eyes. I know how it feels, how it looks.”

“”You have nothing to be guilty for, Steve,” she assures, “Even if the hearing doesn’t go your way and those officers get away with the cover-up, you should take pride in the fact you did what is right.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, for once Liz finding herself unable to determine the tone behind it.

Once sure he has nothing else to add, she decides to change the tone of the conversation, scooting her chair back to the other side of the desk, “How did that date go the other night, by the way?”

Steve seems to take a moment to recollect; the waitress, “Oh, uh, it didn’t work out.”

“That’s a shame,” Liz says, sincerely. It would be good for him to have someone at the moment. Someone he could talk to and be there for him. She is there, of course, but purely in a professional capacity.

“What about you?” Steve surprises her with the question.

“What about me?”

“Do you have anyone? A boyfriend, girlfriend?”

“Oh, no,” Liz rebuffs, perhaps a little too strongly, “Just me.”

Steve studies her, surprised. An attractive and kind young woman like her – single?

“Married to the job, I guess,” she attempts to joke, immediately wincing and feeling her cheeks heat. Great, now she just sounds sad. He is going to pity her.

“Aren’t we all?” Steve chuckles. Liz lets out a relieved breath, grinning too.

“I should finish typing up the files for HO,” Liz hints, truly just wanting time alone to cool her burning face.

“Right,” Steve says, standing from his chair.

“Look after yourself, Steve,” she pleads before he closes the door.

With a small smile, he closes it behind him and heads for his desk.

Liz continues smiling when he is gone. No one usually asks her about _her_. It is usually strictly her asking about them or them even asking her about themselves. But that was not what made her smile the most.

Steve Arnott shared his feelings without her first approaching him. In fact, he had sought her out in her office. He was starting to trust her.

The smile doesn’t leave her face as she returns to her emails.

* * *

“Leah, where can I find Rita?” Liz asks the officer at the desk beside the empty one whose regular occupant she was here to see.

“Called in sick,” the woman says, blunt as ever.

Liz groans, turning back on herself to leave, “Why does no one bother to tell me these things?”

She was supposed to have an appointment with Rita Bennet, one of the few women in the TO-20 offices. Rita had emailed saying she felt particularly stressed lately, so Liz booked her in as soon as she could. That woman was a nervous wreck at the best of times. But she was unwell. Of course, Liz hoped Rita was alright and made a note to send an email later. However, Liz did not enjoy visiting this branch, especially when she doesn’t have to. All the work she could have completed during this time instead of-

“Kate?” Liz’s train of thought is interrupted as she passes the TO-20 main office by her friend with a fire extinguisher in her arms, “What is going on?”

As Liz approaches, she watches Kate rear the extinguisher back and smash it through the window of Gates’ office. As shocked into silence as everyone else witnessing it, Liz runs over as Kate steps through the broken glass into the office, heading straight to Gates’ computer.

Reaching the broken glass herself, she calls out again, “Kate? What is going on?”

“What are you playing at?!” an officer behind her exasperates.

Kate, too distracted to acknowledge her friend’s arrival or the cries of protest against her breaking into the office, begins to furiously hit at the computer’s keyboard and screen, “I need access.”

"Bloody hell! Fleming?" Leah shouts, coming to stand beside Liz.

“I’m AC-12,” Kate states, looking up from the computer, “Call IT now and get them to unlock this bloody computer.”

Liz watches as the woman beside her hesitates, embarrassed at having been deceived.

“NOW!” Kate yells, forcing Leah to unenthusiastically run off in search of assistance.

Concerned by Kate'surgent tone, Liz throws her bag to the ground and steps through the broken glass. Coming up beside Kate, “What is it? What is going on?”

Kate smacks the keyboard one more time in frustration before turning to her friend, “My cover is blown.”

“Yeah, you just shouted it at them,” Liz points out, confused.

Kate shakes her head, “Morton, he was onto me. Followed me out and overheard me on the phone.”

Liz sighs, disappointed. Of course it was him.

The other woman continues, “Smacked me around the head with his cane and sped off in his car, no doubt to warn Gates.”

“That man did _what_?!” Liz shouts, feeling her fists clench as she gives her friend’s head a worried once-over.

“It doesn’t hurt, I just need access to this damn computer,” Kate says, impatiently looking outside the office for any sign of IT.

“I swear, the next time I see him, I’ll make him actually need that walking stick,” Liz seethes.

Kate chuckles slightly beside her, though somewhat distractedly as anticipating the files she was about to uncover _as soon as IT decide to get here_ , “Again, would love to see that.”

Liz snorts at that too, watching as a man comes striding over to the office.

“About time,” Kate criticises, moving out of the way, “AC-12. We need access.”

Liz waits anxiously beside her friend as they watch the man fiddle with various settings on the computer. After several attempts to find the correct password, the man turns to them, telling them it is open.

Slightly pushing the man aside, prompting him to leave the room, the two women huddle around it.

“What are we looking for?”

“Anything incriminating,” Kate says, eyes scanning over the files, “Particularly something that can tell us his current whereabouts.”

Liz searches the screen, unable to see anything of interest. After all, investigating wasn’t exactly her area of expertise.

Still looking at the screen, she hears Kate answer a call. Turning to the woman, the perturbed look on Kate's face scares her a little, “What? What is it?”

Kate remains silent for a moment, eyes wide, before she whispers, “Steve.”

Liz’s stomach drops, the files forgotten, “What about him? Where is he?”

Kate remains silent, listening to a voice on the other side of the phone.

Liz impatiently demands, “Is he ok?”

Kate’s wide eyes flit to her friend as she listens to the call.

“Kate?”

Kate ends the call, her mouth dry. Grabbing Liz by the arm, she pulls the woman out of the office behind her. Liz makes sure to grab her bag as she follows, hearing Kate order for the office to be cordoned and left untouched.

As the pair leave the office, Liz pulls back on her friend’s arm, relieving her grip and forcing her to look at her.

“ _Kate_ ,” Liz shouts, unable to hear her own voice over the sound of her heartbeat, “Where is Steve?”


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! thanks again for reading. not much action in this chapter but I hope you all get to know Liz a bit better and understand her relationship with Steve!
> 
> make sure to leave kudos, comments and subscribe. but most of all: enjoy!

"Excuse me, do you know where DS Steve Arnott is? Have they taken him to hospital already?” Liz asks the first officer she sees after closing the door to Kate's car.

The officer points to an ambulance at the entrance of the warehouse. Thanking the officer and nodding to the vehicle, Liz leads Kate over to it.

“Steve,” Liz whispers, shocked as they approach the back doors to see him sat there. Bloodied, beaten, bruised.

He turns to them, his bloodshot eyes widening in surprise they are there, “Kate? Liz? What are you doing here?”

Liz struggles to push words through her dried throat.m, not able to take her eyes off his pale first.

“We came as soon as we heard,” Kate says, cringing at the amount of blood covering the side of his head and shirt.

“I’m fine,” he tries to convince them, wincing at how his voice cracks.

“You sure?” Liz implores.

“Yeah,” Steve says, looking down to his injured hand, unable to look at the intense sympathy in her eye, “Look, you should go.”

“It’s ok,” Kate explains, “My cover is blown.”

“What?” Steve questions.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kate shakes her head, disappointed, “I lost Gates.”

The women watch as Steve looks away again, swallowing hard, “There’s no sign of him here.”

Liz catches Kate’s eye, the other woman looking doubtful.

“I should check on the kid, see what he has to say,” Kate explains. Truthfully, she thought it wise to leave Liz alone with him for a moment, use that natural prowess of hers to gets some truth out of him. Steve watches from the back of the ambulance as she walks over to the young boy handcuffed to a pipe, shouting obscenities at the officers around him.

Steve looks up to Liz, finding her still staring at his injured hand, “It’s not that bad.”

“No? You’re probably in shock,” Liz offers, moving to sit beside him. It looked bad to her.

“Really, I am fine. They didn’t manage to take it off. Didn’t know how to work the cutters,” he explains, regretting doing so when he sees the way she recoils.

“May I?” Liz asks, reaching a hand out to his.

Slowly moving his hand out to hers, she grasps it carefully as to not hurt him. Steve almost wants to laugh at how gentle her touch is compared to the beatings he just endured. Her soft, warm hands, a welcome contradiction to the cold, cruel cutters that were wrapped around his finger. Liz raises his hand slightly to inspect it, gut wrenching at the bruising and blood. She was no medical expert, but it did not look good.

“Christ, Steve,” Liz groans, “When I told you to look after yourself-"

“I figured this might not be what you meant,” he chuckles, though solemnly.

She raises a brow at him, surprised he has the energy to joke. He catches her unamused expression and folds into himself, pulling his hand away slowly.

“Have the medics said anything?” Liz asks, looking to see if she could catch the eye of one to ask herself.

“Only to breathe and to wait for them to set up the ambulance so they can take me to the hospital.”

“Would you like me to come with you?” she asks immediately, turning back to him.

“No, it’s alright,” Steve lies, “I’m sure you have work to do.”

“This is work. I’m your wellbeing officer,” Liz reminds him, “And you don’t look very well.”

The pair share a small laugh, Steve realising she won’t be going anywhere without a fight.

“So, what happened?” Liz asks, looking into the warehouse to see a set of tools and a vice on a table.

Steve takes a breath, “Was checking out a lead, got jumped by some thugs wearing balaclavas. They had bats.”

Liz nods, “What lead?”

Steve looks up at her, dazed. Kate had explained Steve was looking into some dodgy dealing at the market where Jackie Laverty held several properties, that he had called her to say he was on his way to meet an informant with something on Gates. Kate had advised him not to go, with Gates AWOL, but Steve had insisted.

Liz catches Steve holding his injured hand, pinching the most damaged finger slightly as he speaks, “Miroslav, a man I spoke to at the hair salon Laverty owned and used for laundering. He said Gates was in the house when Laverty was killed.”

“Was Gates here?” Liz asks, keeping her eye on his finger as he continued to squeeze it slightly. She sees him wince at the pain from it.

“No.”

“How did you get away?”

Steve pauses, not having thought this far in his cover story, “They seemed to receive a call. All left in a rush.”

“Did you arrest the boy?”

“Yes,” Steve says, blunt, not wanting to say too much in case his voice cracks again. He holds the bridge of his nose with his good hand, trying to relieve the pain there.

Liz nods, slowly, deciding not to worsen his headache by pushing anymore, “Would you like some water? I have some in my bag. I’ll have to go to Kate's car.”

“I’m really fine, but thanks,” Steve insists, admittedly enjoying her company and wanting her to stay until he is driven away.

Liz eyes him, unconvinced at his insistence of feeling alright. Before she even has the chance to question it again, Kate comes back over. She gives Liz a brief glance, but it said enough. Liz can tell she thinks Steve is lying, that Gates was here.

“Ready to go?” a medic asks Steve as they approach them.

Steve nods, moving to stand. Liz also stands and reaches out to catch his weight if he needs it, but Steve waves her off. Instead, he pulls himself up by his good hand by a handle on the ambulance door.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” Liz asks one more time, hoping he will change his mind.

“It’s fine,” he weakly argues again, giving her one last look before heading further into the ambulance.

Liz nods, disappointed, and watches as the ambulance doors close.

Kate comes to stand beside her as they watch the vehicle pull away. She turns to Liz, noting the way the other woman’s gaze follows the ambulance down the road. Kate knows she is undoubtedly feeling useless here and will be unable to focus on anything but making sure Steve, her client and now likely friend, is alright.

“I’ll take you to the hospital once I am finished here,” Kate offers, placing a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder.

Liz turns to her, smiling endearingly, “Thank you.”

* * *

Steve blinks. His eyes adjust to the bright light above him as they slowly open. Looking down, he sees his injured hand has been bandaged, a cast around his most painful finger. After a few more blinks, his surroundings begin to become clearer. A hospital bed.

Looking to the other side of the small room, Steve sees Hastings talking quietly to Liz. He watches them for a moment, relieved to see familiar faces. Shifting slightly in the bed, he catches their attention.

“Arnott?” seeing the man awake, Hastings moves to the door, “I’ll go get Kate.”

Liz moves closer to the bed, “Are you alright?”

Steve groans as he attempts to sit up. He raises his bandaged hand and pointedly studies it, “Am I?”

“Yeah, you’re ok,” Liz assures, with a small smile that seems to put Steve immediately at ease, “They operated on your hand. They managed to save your finger.”

Steve lets out a shaky breath, leaning back further into his pillows, “I thought I told you not to come.”

“And I thought I told you, you are a client and it is my job,” Liz teases.

“Kate is here too?”

“Yeah, she drove me and called Hastings,” she explains, “She just stepped outside to call Mark.”

“Who is Mark?”

“Her husband.”

Steve’s eyes widen a little, “Didn’t know she was married.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a UCO if she went around spouting her personal life to everyone, I suppose,” Liz offers, “Now her cover is blown, she will be able to go back home.”

Steve nods, understanding. He looks around the room once more, taking in the tube attached to his arm and the monitor beside him, “How long have you been here?”

“About five hours, maybe.”

Steve’s head snaps back to her, surprised.

“Kate had to sort some things at the warehouse before we got here, Hastings came not long after we called. You were unconscious the whole time we have been here,” Liz explains, with a slight shrug.

Just then, Hastings re-enters the room with Kate following close behind.

“How are you feeling?” Kate asks.

“As if someone hit me over the head, put my hand in a vice and tried to cut my finger off,” Steve jokes half-heartedly, still tired.

The group share a small laugh. Looking to the end of his bed, Steve’s heart catches slightly at the thought of the three of them being there, by his side. It certainly wasn’t something he was used to.

“We couldn’t find Gates,” Kate explains, deciding if Steve was feeling conscious enough to joke, they could discuss the case. It wasn’t over, “The house is deserted. DI Buckells’ team have put a trace on his phone, but it’s switched off.”

“Right,” Steve comments, taking the information in.

Kate huffs a little, realising he won’t yet give them any more information on what happened at the warehouse. Liz knows what Kate is trying to do, wishing they could let the man rest, yet remains silent. They are the investigators, after all. She knows how close they are to nailing Gates, but they cannot do so if Steve is withholding valuable information.

“We’ll take a statement when you’re feeling a bit better,” Hastings offers.

Kate was not yet ready to give up the push for information, “Because Gates went AWOL before the incident, we are assuming he was involved in some capacity.”

“Quite a set of charges, isn’t it, for Officer of the Year?” Hastings adds, also wanting to press Steve for the truth, “Conspiracy, kidnapping, GBH, attempted murder-“

“I’m not sure he was involved, sir,” Steve claims.

Liz can tell something does not make sense. Kate is right, it cannot be coincidence Gates goes missing only hours before Steve was attacked. She knows from what Steve has told her before that Gates has shown great resentment for the anticorruption officer, the motive is there. But, why would Steve lie?

“We haven’t got the evidence yet, you mean,” Hastings insists, “But we will get it.”

Steve looks away from them, back to his injured hand.

“Kate, we should debrief,” Hastings says, patting the end of Steve’s bed then heading for the door.

Liz reaches down to pick up her bag, checking her phone quickly for her missed emails. She knows Steve should probably rest. Kate offers to give her a lift back to the office, but before she can accept-

“Liz?” Steve calls out.

“Yeah?” Liz asks, hesitating by the door.

Steve looks at Hastings and Kate, as if not wanting to speak with them present. Liz looks to the pair, prompting Hastings to nod.

“Alright, Beth, see you back at the office, yeah?” He asks, turning to leave with Kate, “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Steve.”

“Thank you, sir.”

With that, the other two leave the room, the door closing softly behind them.

Liz places her bag back on the floor and moves closer to the side of his bed.

“What was that about?” he asks her, gesturing with his good hand to the door Hastings and Kate just walked through.

Liz pulls up a chair, sitting down beside him, “Kate’s cover is blown. I guess now it is a question of whether she will stay on the case.”

“Will she want to carry on?” Steve asks, concerned.

“Well, I know how much she misses her family while undercover, so I am sure she is tempted to drop out,” Liz explains, “But I think we both know the answer to that.”

Steve agrees. Kate Fleming was one of the most determined women either of them had met. She had put so much time and effort and energy into this case, there was no way she would abandon it now.

“What is happening with the case now?” he asks.

“The men who attacked you got away, but they have the boy, Ryan, in custody. They can’t interview him, though, until they track down a responsible adult. Unfortunately, I don’t think that boy has any. Probably wouldn’t have ended up in all this mess if he did.”

Steve studies the young woman beside him, then. Her eyes seemed to glaze over with sympathy for the boy. Steve, of course, has a rather large grudge against him. But she is right, again. He is just a child. He had no doubt Liz was thinking of ways she could possibly help him, that’s what she did. Help people.

“I heard Kate trashed Gates’ office,” Steve smirks.

“Yeah,” Liz grins, “You should have seen it. That woman is everything I aspire to be.”

“Who were you there to see?” Steve asks, knowing she must have been at TO-20 for an appointment like before.

“Rita Bennet. She emailed me saying she has been under excessive stress. Honestly though, I get that email from her at least once a month.”

Steve chuckles, the first time Liz has seen him fully smile since his attack. Liz looks at him, questioningly.

“Rita? That might have been me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I might have threatened her with arrest if she didn’t tell me about Gates hiding some files,” Steve fails to hold back his grin as Liz stares at him, incredulous.

“Steven Arnott,” Liz guffaws, a grin also spreading across her face, “You are awful.”

The pair laugh together, Steve ignoring the way his ribs ache as he does so. Liz is unsure if they are even laughing at poor Rita’s expense, or allowing themselves to revel in the relief Steve is safe, fingers intact. She continues to laugh until she catches the time on her watch. It was late.

“Oh, I should go,” Liz announces, not failing to notice the way Steve’s smile immediately drops, “You should rest.”

Steve nods, clearly disappointed, making Liz regret disrupting the moment. But she needs to catch up on the work she has missed since this morning, and Steve needs time to recuperate. Although, she does feel terrible leaving him alone.

“Is there anyone you would like me to call?" she says, standing from the chair and reaching for her bag, “Your parents, maybe?”

Steve sinks back into his pillow, looking away from her before quietly saying, “No, thanks.”

Liz frowns. He had hardly mentioned his family in their initial meeting, or since. She had tried not to read into it too much, brushing it off as his previous reluctance to counselling. But the distracted, almost dismal expression that shadowed his face suggests to her his decision not to talk about them was intended. She decides, however, now is not the time to push him. He needs to rest.

“I’ll give reception my number, ask them to call when you are ready for discharge to pick you up,” she offers, hoping that will make up for her leaving.

Steve turns to her as she hesitates in the doorway. His dismal look now slightly replaced by what looks to be gratitude.

“I’ll see you soon,” Steve croaks, adamant he will be out of this bed and back on the case as soon as possible.

Liz waves one last time and closes her door behind her.

Steve finds himself staring at the door for a few moments after she is gone, immediately missing the company.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! I do spoil you.
> 
> Kudos, comment, subscribe and enjoy!

Steve had discharged himself and walked into the TO-20 office the next day as if nothing had happened. The only thing accounting for his attack was the slight graze to his forehead and his bandaged hand, which was now in an arm-sling. Oh, and a terrible headache that just would  _ not _ go away.

Walking past the main offices, careful to avoid the eye of any of Gates’ team, he is stopped by someone stepping out in front of him.

“You have to be kidding me,” Liz scowls, hands planted on her hips, blocking his path.

“Liz-“

“You discharged yourself?!”

Steve goes to argue, but Liz speaks before he can open his mouth, “Don’t even think about lying to me, Arnott. I called the hospital to check on you and they told me you were gone.”

Steve sighs. Liz continues, “What were you thinking?”

“We need to get to the end of this case,” Steve explains, quietly, aware of the eyes turning toward them, “I can’t just sit in a bed all day not doing anything.”

"Not doing anything? You are recovering from being kidnapped and tortured," Liz finds it difficult to argue otherwise, understanding his eagerness about the case. She has felt the same urgency from Kate and Hastings. 

She sighs, relenting, as he asks, “Why are you here?”

Liz gestures to a desk where Rita Bennet is sat – giving him a wary glare.

Liz was about to ask Steve what his reasoning for being in the TO-20 branch was, when she catches his eyes widen at something behind her. Following his gaze, she turns to see ACC Hilton with a group of other high-ranking officials trailing behind. Stepping to stand beside Steve, she glances at him, noticing that he is not looking at Hilton but the man beside him.

As the group approaches, the man Steve is glaring at seems to notice him too, an unnerving amused glint in his eye. Liz watches, warily, as the man comes to a stop before Steve, as if daring him to speak. Steve stands a little straighter, squaring his body up to the much taller man. Hilton seems to notice the stand-off between the two.

“You two know eachother?”

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks, ignoring Hilton, much to the ACC’s offence.

Hilton moves slightly between the two, capturing Steve’s attention, with a stern tone, “Chief Inspector Osborne is contributing his expertise to our counter-terrorism operation.”

That’s when Liz realises who the man is and why Steve is so agitated by seeing him. Osborne is the man who threatened him to cover up the Ali incident. The man who is turning the shooting on Steve to try and force his silence. She continues to watch as Steve glares at the man.

“You believe this?” Steve challenges to Obsorne. Liz is glad to see Steve standing up for himself, rather than cowering under the man’s harsh stare.

“The Greek Lane cell appeared exactly as our fell off the radar,” Osborne explains, tauntingly, knowing Steve is aware this is only for show, “We can’t exclude a direct connection.”

“If you’ll excuse us, DS Arnott,” Hilton says, sharply.

The group continue into the offices, Osborne making sure to fix Steve with a mocking glare as he passes. The pair watch as Hilton apologises to ‘Philip’ and introduces him to Cottan, who has been promoted to acting SIO of the operation.

Liz turns to Steve as they enter the meeting room. She notes the way Steve swallows hard and reaches out for his arm. Steve jumps slightly at the contact, being broken out of his thoughts.

“Let’s go. Kate will want to see you before she packs up,” Liz offers, leading Steve to the door.

* * *

Arriving back at the office, Liz asks reception if Kate is still in the building to be told she is in Interview Room 3. Heading to the observation room with Steve, they find her sat across the table from Ryan, the young boy Steve had supposedly arrested after being attacked. The room is full of various social workers and support officers. Liz knows Kate wants to get to the bottom of what happened in the warehouse and if Gates was actually there – if Steve is lying. She hears Steve sigh beside her. He seems to know that too.

“What did he say to Gates?” Kate demands to the small boy in front of her, “What did Gates say to him?”

“I don’t know!” the boy shouts, rubbing his eyes with his palms. Liz’s heart breaks a little.

“Think carefully, please, Ryan,” Kate says, stern.

“I can’t remember!”

“Did Tommy and DCI Gates ever discuss kidnapping DS Arnott?” Kate pushes, unrelenting.

Liz feels Steve shift beside her, rubbing his good hand over his mouth. She keeps her eye on the interrogation.

“I dunno!” Ryan shouts again.

“Ryan’s answered your questions, DC Fleming,” the solicitor insists.

“He’s tired,” a social worker pleads, “Are you tired, Ryan?”

“Ryan, please,” Kate leans forward, speaking calmly, “Did DCI Gates help kidnap DS Arnott?”

“No,” Ryan’s face screws, “He’s the one who rescued him.”

Kate is quiet. Liz turns to look up at Steve, who stares through the window, mouth slightly agape. He  _ was _ lying. Before Liz manages to say anything, Steve pushes past to the door, barging into the interrogation room.

Kate turns, glaring. Not taking her heated eyes off Steve, Kate thanks Ryan before gathering her files and walking from the room. Pushing past the man, she determinedly walks down the corridor, Steve closely following behind.

Liz steps into the doorway of the interrogation room, looking around at the numerous workers before settling on the small boy, “I hope you’re being looked after, Ryan. If there is anything we can do, just let us know.”

DI Buckells then arrives, forcing his way past her and into the room. Liz closes the door and turns to catch up with Kate and Steve, who is desperately trying to catch the woman’s attention.

“Kate, wait!” Steve calls.

Kate rounds on him, fiercely, “I knew something was going on! When were you going to tell me?”

Liz hangs back a few steps behind Steve, watching, sadly, as he struggles to explain himself.

“I’m sorry,” Steve mutters.

“What? And now you ‘owe’ him?” Kate mocks, knowing how Gates manipulates people that way, “Gates played us. All of us. And he is at it again!”

“He saved my life,” Steve insists, as if that explains everything.

Kate scoffs, “He put you in danger in the first place!”

“He was backed into a corner,” Steve’s voice raises to match Kate’s.

“Yeah, that _ we _ put him in to crack the case!”

“You’re close to Gates and you don’t even understand him!” Steve shouts.

Liz watches as Kate goes to walk away with a scoff but does not resist rounding back on Steve, pointing a finger to scold him, “You know what? You’re screwing up an investigation I’ve spent months on, Steve. Undercover, worrying about my every move, bricking it in case I get caught, sleepless nights!”

Steve swallows, looking down, unable to hold her furious gaze.

“Cheers, mate. Thanks a fucking million!” Kate spits, before finally turning and storming down the corridor out of sight.

This time, Steve does not follow. He turns back to Liz, guiltily. The woman is standing a few steps behind, having watched the entire confrontation. To his surprise, Liz does not seem shocked by the news Gates helped him, she only looks disappointed.

“You knew,” Steve states.

“It is my job to know,” she responds, not sure what else to say.

Liz wants to be angry at him, even just half as much as Kate. Kate is her friend, and she knows the personal cost of these missions. Steve lied, put the case at risk. Was willing to ruin all that Kate had sacrificed. And for what?

But the way Steve is pinching at his injured hand again, as if to punish himself with the hint of pain, tells her he regrets it.

“I have work to do,” Liz states, moving past the man to walk to the office. Perhaps, it was better this time to let him think through things for himself.

* * *

“How is the networking going?” Ted asks her, handing her a cup of tea. The pair stood by the kettle in the office.

“Thank you,” Liz says, taking it from him and blowing slightly to cool it, “Good, yeah. Actually managed to recruit a new wellbeing officer in the Derby branch. I don’t have to do appointments there anymore, so that means I should have more time to work on recruiting others.”

“That’s great, really great,” Hastings smiles, catching the eye of someone behind her, “Steve!”

Liz turns to see the man walking into the office. He sends her an awkward smile in greeting as he approaches. They hadn’t spoken since Kate shouted at him yesterday. Liz had hoped he would come to see her, to tell her why he lied about Gates. He hadn’t. In fact, Steve had gone elsewhere.

“Fancy a cup of tea?” Hastings asks him, holding the kettle, “Shall I be mother?”

“Thank you, sir,” Steve says with a quip of his lip in amusement.

“You know, the date came through for your inquest. It is next week,” Hastings says, bluntly, pouring the tea.

Steve pauses, taken back. He looks to Liz who only stares back, knowing Steve is feeling anxious about testifying.

“Suppose, you could always argue that you’re not fit to testify,” Hastings proposes. Steve looks at his sling as Ted calls Kate over.

Liz places her cup on the table, anticipating a confrontation as Kate joins them.

“The news came through yesterday, but I decided to let it wait,” Hastings continues explaining to Steve, “There’s no point wasting a good night’s sleep.”

Liz holds back a sigh, knowing where Hastings is going with this. 

“Did you sleep all right last night?” Hastings asks, feigning concern.

“Good, thank you, sir,” Steve says, quickly.

Liz and Kate share a glance. Was Hastings really about to do this here?

“Yeah, I know, you know, I mean with the arm and all that,” Hastings raises his voice slightly, gesturing to Steve’s sling.

“Just a quiet night in, sir,” Steve says, quietly, as if he knows what is about to come.

“Quiet night?” Hastings shouts, incredulous. He slams the kettle on the tabletop. 

Kate looks around awkwardly at the many eyes now on them. Liz winces.

“Cheeky wee shite, ya,” Hastings growls through grit teeth.

He fixes Steve with a cold glare, pointing a finger to his chest, “Kate, you have a word with him. Doctor told me to watch my blood pressure.”

The three watch as he strides away into his office.

Steve looks to Liz, who raises a brow at his audacity to still look confused.  _ This man just does not help himself, sometimes. _

“The boss put an officer at your flat,” Kate explains, patronisingly, “For your protection.”

Steve huffs, still refusing to admit his whereabouts.

“He saw you stumble in after midnight,” Kate prompts, watching him expectantly.

Steve looks between the two women before carefully looking around to see who was listening. Quietly, he admits, “I had a meeting with Gates.”

Kate sighs. Liz rolls her eyes, looking back to Hastings’ office. After all that time she spent convincing him to bring Steve back, it is looking as if she may owe the older man an apology.

“Jesus, Steve,” Kate berates, “You’re supposed to be my partner.”

“You were never Gates’ partner, then?” Steve suddenly retorts, to both the women’s confusion.

“What the  _ hell _ are you talking about?” Kate asks.

“If this is personal-”

“Personal?” she cuts him off.

“If something happened between you two-” Steve begins only to be cut off again by a disbelieving Kate.

“Like what?”

Steve shakes his head at her stubbornness, “Nothing. Forget it.”

“What do you want to know?” Kate challenges.

“I shouldn’t have asked, it is private,” Steve says.

“Yeah, it is-”

“Children,  _ please _ ,” Liz berates, tired of listening to them bicker. Liz is not sure why Steve is insinuating something happened between Gates and Kate, and she doesn’t understand how he could have come to that conclusion. What she does know is that the man before her is treading on very thin ice, and she wants to stop him before he says something (else) he might regret.

“Here,” Hastings walks up to them, slapping a device onto the table before Steve, “Now that you and Gates are bosom buddies, you’ll know what to do with that.”

“A wire tap?”

“Yes, Steven, a wire tap.”

Liz almost shuddered at Hastings’ use of Steve’s full name, remembering the many times she has been scolded with ‘Elizabeth’ herself.

“What is it with you? Do you think you owe Gates?” Hastings scolds, “Why don’t you ask yourself who you really owe?”

Liz sees Steve look away at that, clearly a nerve being struck. Hastings walks away again, Kate doing the same with a shake of her head.

Steve sighs, turning to Liz. She just remains standing, looking at him. Hastings was right, he knows who he owes. This transfer and case has given him the chance to do the right thing, make up for his mistakes in the Ali incident. Liz was the one to reassure Hastings he was good enough for this job, to bring him back. Hell, she even persuaded  _ him  _ of it. And he is letting her down.

They have all given him a chance, and he is grateful. But he just wants to solve the case. He won’t apologise for that.

Steve is relieved when Liz speaks first, unsure what he could have said.

“I may not understand why you lied to us about Gates and I don’t have access to the details of the investigation,” she begins, “But I know you have the case’s best interest at heart.”

She takes a step closer to him, lowering her voice, “You know how much they have given to this case. As have you. But they know what they are doing. I know I told you to trust your instincts but… for now, trust  _ them _ .”

Steve picks up the wire-tap, knowing she is right, despite the small voice in his head telling him to trust Gates too. He claims to have valuable intel that could be essential to their case. Liz once told him he did the right thing choosing the moral stand over personal cost. He would work with Gates to end this case for the betterment of everyone involved, whether he had mates at the end of it or not.

Liz is glad to see him pick up the device, knowing this means he is at least listening to her and the others. She turns back for her office, walking away after saying, “If you trust them, they will trust you.”

* * *

Liz is sat in her office the next day, replying to various emails about appointments and resources. Just as she is typing her reply to the new wellbeing officer at the Derby branch, her mind drifts to Steve Arnott.

Why did he lie? But most of all, why is she so bothered about it?

It is not her case. She is not an investigator. Hell, it is not even her branch, just a shared office-space.

Though, of course, Ted Hastings and Kate Fleming are her two closest friends. In fact, they may just be her only true friends. There isn’t exactly much time to develop non-professional relationships with people in this job, constantly floating between one person’s troubles to the next. Liz meets so many people, it is hard to find anyone constant. Even within the AC-12 department, people come and go, ticking it off to improve their CVs then moving along. But not Hastings or Kate. They are always there. Her friends. If they are upset, so is she. Maybe that’s why she is so frustrated with Steve.

Steve.

Who was Steve Arnott to her anyway? A colleague, no. A client, occasionally. A friend? She would like to think so. But who is to say he will be around for long either? He has already resigned once. And he only transferred here in the first place because of the shooting. Liz knows, probably better than anyone, maybe even himself, how conflicted he is about this job. Sure, he agreed to come back. But he keeps drifting further. Doing things his own way. Acting on impulse. If he doesn’t leave again because of it, she is sure Hastings won’t stand for it much longer.

A knock on her door breaks her thoughts. Speaking of.

“Ted?” 

“You might want to come with me.”

* * *

“Gates is dead?”

“Steve called it in,” Hastings has explained how Gates arranged with Steve to bring in a high-profile criminal under the name ‘Tommy’, the one who has been supposedly pulling the strings behind Laverty and the other murders. Kate and Steve had left the office to pursue them, following the triangulation of a burner phone Gates told Steve he was going to use. ‘Tommy’ has been arrested by Kate, but Gates had been hit by oncoming traffic.

Liz rubs her forehead, leaning back in the car seat, “Bloody hell.”

This was a lot for her to take in, not knowing the details of the case already. There were many gaps in her understanding of what had happened, but she did not think to ask. Her main priority was making sure her friends were alright.

Hastings pulls the car to a stop as they find themselves surrounded by blue flashing lights on the motorway.

“Thank you for bringing me,” Liz says, undoing her seatbelt and leaving the car.

“Of course, go find them. I have some things to know and forms to fill,” Hastings explains as he does the same.

Liz holds her hand above her eyes to shield them from the flashing lights, searching through the sea of cars and officers for Kate and Steve. Seeing them sitting on the hood of a car by an ambulance, she breathes a sigh of relief.

Kate looks up, breaking her disturbed reverie of what just happened, to see Liz jogging towards them.

She stands, opening her arms for her friend to fall into, revelling in Liz's warmth and comfort.

“Are you alright?” Liz characteristically asks.

Kate just nods, her short hair brushing against Liz’s neck. Liz pulls back, keeping her arms gripped onto Kate’s, taking a moment to study her face. Satisfied there was nothing to see but shock, Liz turns to look at Steve, who holds a similar distant expression as he gazes fixedly at the ground. What they saw must have been horrible, Liz could only imagine.

“Are either of you hurt?”

Steve looks up at her, shaking his head, “Might just take a while to get it out of our heads.”

She nods, pulling Kate with her to rejoin Steve on the hood of the car. 

Just then, Hastings turns the corner with ACC Hilton, walking toward them. Kate and Steve beside her go to stand to attention, Liz feeling as though she should too but deciding against it as she isn't an officer.

“As you were,” he instructs, coming to a stop before them.

“How did it happen?” Hastings asks, referring to Gates.

Liz observes as Kate and Steve share a look before he speaks up, “DCI Gates was running through traffic to apprehend the suspect. Line of duty, sir.”

It is now Hastings and Hilton’s turn to share a look, before Hilton nods, seeming to believe Steve, “I should inform his wife.”

“Thank you, sir,” Steve says as Hilton walks away.

“Well done, you two,” Hastings sincerely looks between them, “Well done.”

They thank him as he also turns to walk away. Liz watches with a smile as the two officers to her right side embrace, relieved. It is done. Over. 

Releasing each other after a moment, they return to their thoughts, watching blankly as other officers run around them.

Sat beside them, Liz turns to the other woman in an attempt to distract her, “Have you called Mark?”

Kate sits up straighter, her face brightening a little at the thought she will finally get to go home now the case is over, “No, I should though.”

“Go,” Steve says to her, “Everything is sorted here.”

Kate looks between the two of them, seeing both Steve and Liz look at her encouragingly and understanding. How could she say no? All she wants right now is to hug her son.

“Take care of him,” Kate instructs Liz as she stands from the car bonnet.

“Tell Josh I said hello and I hope to see him soon,” Liz smiles slightly, “Let me know you are home safe. Get Mark to call me if you are too tired, I can explain everything. Well, most of it.”

“I will.”

“And if you need me-”

“I know where to find you,” Kate says, sending them both a small smile before walking away to her car.

Liz shuffles over on the bonnet to sit beside Steve in his quiet for a moment, taking in the bustle around them.

“You should be proud of yourself,” Liz starts, capturing the attention of the man next to her.

“Gates is dead,” he states, coldly.

Liz sighs, saddened by his affinity to collecting more guilt for his conscience. If he did die in the line of duty, as Steve told the superiors, he has nothing to be sorry for, “That isn’t on you, Steve.”

Steve shakes his head, “I could have done something.”

“You did enough,” Liz asserts, “Maybe you did things your own way, but, again, you did the right thing.”

Steve remains silent, clearly too lost in his own mind to listen to her now. She follows his eyeline to watch as Cottan leads the suspect, ‘Tommy’, into the back of the police van, closing the door behind them.

“Come on,” Liz urges, knowing that means there is nothing else Steve can do tonight, “I’ll give you a ride home?”

Steve nods, thanking her and following her to the car.

“Isn’t this Hastings’ car?” Steve asks as they approach it.

She opens the drivers’ door and gets in, prompting him to do the same.

“He won’t mind,” Liz shrugs, finding the keys tucked in the overhead mirror, like she knew they would be there, “I am sure he will be working late tonight, anyway. I’ll come back for him if he can’t find a lift from another officer. What is your address?”

Steve tells her, frowning at her boldness to take his superior’s car. Deciding he was too tired to question it, he watches in the wing-mirror as the crime scene grows smaller behind them. It is over.

The ride to this house is silent, Liz giving him the chance to think things over. He needs time to process. If he wants to talk to her, he will.

Pulling up outside his apartment block, Liz turns to see Steve holding his injured hand in the other, “How is it?”

Steve turns to her, seeing her eyes on his bandaged hand, “Sore. Sometimes, it feels like there is still something clamped around it.”

Liz looks at him, sadly. He shakes his head at her sympathy, “I am just grateful I didn’t lose it.”

Liz nods, supposing he is right. They sit in silence for another moment, Steve unsure what to say and Liz not wanting to force it.

“Would you like to come in?” Steve settles on offering, not quite wanting to be alone with his thoughts just yet.

Liz turns to him, surprised, “Sure.”


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this (shorter) chapter gives you more of an understand of Liz and who she is!
> 
> Kudos, comment and subscribe. Oh, and don't forget to enjoy!

Once inside his apartment, Steve awkwardly removes his jacket, it being quite difficult with only one hand, before throwing it across the back of a dining chair. He turns to Liz, offering her a drink as she looks around his space.

“Oh, tea, please,” she says as she walks further into the flat as he heads to the kitchen space.

It was a small flat, but nice. Reminded Liz of her own, just with less books or plants or photos - or anything decorative at all, in fact. Almost as if he wasn’t planning on staying long.

“Milk? Sugar?” Steve calls out to her, prompting her to walk over to join him in the kitchen.

“Milk, one sugar. Thanks,” she smiles, removing her own jacket and placing it beside Steve’s.

“Kate got back ok,” she informs Steve, putting her phone back in her pocket after checking it.

“That’s good.”

Watching as he pulls two mugs out of a cupboard with his one hand, placing them on the counter, she smirks as she notices something amusing.

“Cookie crisp?”

Steve turns to her, questioningly. 

Liz gestures to the box of cereal left open on the side, “So not just the height of a seven year old but the mind of one too.”

He guffaws, offended, but grins as he pours the milk, “What can I say? They’re  _ grrrreat _ !”

Liz laughs, “That’s Frosties.”

“Oh,” Steve laughs too, stirring the mugs one last time. Realising he would struggle carrying the cups of tea with his one good hand, Liz walks over to take hers from him.

“Thank you,” Liz says as she follows him to the sofa.

Sitting back with a groan, Steve lets out a relieved breath. 

Liz watches him, sympathetically. The man has been through so much in the last month, he must feel relieved to be able to sit for a moment and relax. She waits for him to start the conversation, not wanting to disrupt his moment of peace.

“The hearing is in two days,” he claims, sitting back up and leaning his forearms on his thighs.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Liz assures knowing he still wants to testify against his own branch.

“Hasn’t felt like it,” Steve admits, referring not only to the Ali case but everything with Gates too. 

“You’re standing up for the right thing, for justice. Just as any good anticorruption officer would do.”

“Would you come with me?” Steve suddenly asks, looking at her somewhat pleadingly.

Liz almost chokes as she takes a sip of tea, “To the hearing?”

Steve shrugs, “Would be nice to see a friendly face.”

“Of course. I can push back a few appointments,” Liz says, catching Steve looking slightly guilty when he hears she has work to do.

She catches his eye and assures him, “If you want me to be there, I will be there.”

Steve thanks her and Liz feels herself smile a little, stunned he would ask her, “Will any of your family be there?”

Liz immediately regrets using the situation to prompt him into that conversation, knowing the probable answer, but she was eager to know about them. 

“Uh, no,” Steve shakes his head, “They won’t be.”

“Why not?” Liz prompts, taking another sip of her tea.

Steve knows she is just trying to get him to talk about them, but yet again he feels the urge to tell her, “They are still in London, probably too late for them to travel so far.”

“Would they not want to know? To support you?”

“No, I think they are too busy for me.”

Liz continues to sip her tea, allowing him to continue if he would like to. He does.

“They are both accountants, my parents. Met at some big banking branch. My brother, James, is also a banker. Done pretty well for himself. International banking. Living some good life in Portugal with his wife and son.”

Liz listens intently as Steve continues, staring into his coffee mug.

“Me? Messed about in school, got bad grades, joined the force to straighten myself out. Attracted to the discipline, I guess. And here I am,” he motions timidly to his small, empty apartment.

Liz cannot resist her counsellor’s urge to ask, “You feel as though they aren’t proud of you?”

Steve is silent for a moment before quietly admitting, “Not as much as James, no.”

“You think you have to prove yourself to them?”

Steve’s silence tells her the answer.

Liz puts down her tea and turns herself to face him fully on the sofa, “Steve Arnott, you don’t have anything to prove to anyone but yourself. The Gates case, your Ali testimony in a few days - these are great reminders of what you can accomplish and who you are.”

Steve turns to look her in the eye, ignoring the way his heart inflates at her words. The smallest hint of a smile on his face, “This is beginning to sound like an appointment.”

Liz chuckles, “Isn’t it?”

“No, this is just two mates having a conversation,” he explains, as if it were obvious.

_ Mates _ . Liz smiles.

He puts down his empty mug beside hers on the coffee table and turns to face her, as she is him,”How about we talk about you, for once?”

“Me?” Liz exclaims.

“Tell me about yourself, Elizabeth Thornton,” Steve smirks, repeating the line she used on him the first time they met during his initial profiling for AC-12. Liz seems to catch the reference, her mouth opening slightly, startled.

“There really isn’t much to tell,” Liz shakes her head, unsure what to say. It was very rare anyone asked her about herself, other than during small talk. She waits, struggling, for Steve to ask her something specific.

“You and Kate have known each other a long time?” Steve asks, like he has been wanting to for a while.

“Yeah, uh, we trained together.”

“Kate trained to be a counsellor?”

“Oh, no,” Liz giggles. Kate was one of the kindest people she knew, but she often convinced people with threats rather than assurances, “I trained to be an officer.”

She watches as Steve’s eyes widen slightly and he shifts forward in his seat, “Really?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” Liz teases.

“No, no,” Steve tries to cover his shock, “You just don’t seem the type.”

Liz was far too.. too.. (God, he would never say this aloud in case it sounded derogatory).. Gentle? No. What he means is, he couldn’t picture her doing anything but what she does. She is too good at it, from what he has experienced anyway. He cringes as he waits for her response, ready for her to rebate him for judging her.

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” she says, to both his relief and intrigue.

Liz continues, “Trained for two years at Ryton-On-Dunsmore in Coventry. General duties, patrols, drill, even passed the undercover course. Luckily, I was kicked off firearms before I could cause any real damage.”

The pair share a laugh, as Steve silently urges her to continue, Liz strangely enjoying the sensation of having someone want to know about  _ her _ , “But, I soon realised, the aggression and the detachment from feeling.. It just wasn’t for me.”

Steve watches, concerned, as she suddenly takes interest in a loose thread on the hem of her jumper.

“Only lasted two months as an officer before I called it a day,” she admits, quickly moving on, not wanting to have to explain herself, “Realised it was the people that attracted me to the job. So, I studied psychology and counselling at Garnerville, then Hendon for a short while-”

“You were at Hendon?” Steve asks.

“I was, only for the better part of a year before I was offered a job up here. Central Police wanted to embrace a new wellbeing programme for its staff. They heard about my work. I suppose because they already knew me from my time as an officer and a few contacts I still had up here,” Liz explains, “Can’t say I wasn’t glad to leave Hendon and those cocky, cockney showboats behind.”

Steve chuckles again at her teasing, amused by the pointed taunt.

“I’ll make us another tea, if you would like,” Liz offers, laughing herself, picking up the empty mugs and standing from the sofa. Admittedly, she just wanted a break from talking about herself. Did her clients feel as self-centred as this?

“Sure,” Steve follows her, helping her find the milk and tea-bags.

As she fills up the kettle, Steve turns to her again, “Hastings once mentioned you ‘networking’?”

“Oh, yeah, so I am using my appointments in several branches of Central Police as research for a network I am trying to put together called 'Oscar Kilo'.”

“ _ O.K. _ ? Nice, very clever,” Steve grins, leaning against the counter.

“I thought so,” Liz grins too, pouring the boiled water into the mugs.

“So what is 'Oscar Kilo'?”

“My goal is to build a nationwide network of officer wellbeing branches to offer counselling and resources for any and all employees of the force,” Liz explains, as if she has a transcript learnt by heart.

“Is that not just a glorified HR?”

Steve immediately regrets asking that as Liz’s hands pause pouring the boiling water. She is offended. He almost thinks she is going to throw it at him.

“Actually, it is more to keep HR in line and, yes, in a way, do their job for them. But better,” Liz puts the kettle back in its spot, her eyes once again lighting up with enthusiasm as she talks about her project, “The 'O.K.' network, unlike HR departments, will offer free appointments and workshops to any officer or staff who asks for it, and their families too, who are often overlooked.”

Steve nods, thinking of Kate’s son and husband and how difficult it must be for them.

“Each branch will be allocated a wellbeing unit, with departments and officers for all types of grievance,” she continues to explain while taking the milk from him with a thank you, “trauma and post-incident, both physical and emotional, sexual/gender/racial/religious discirmination, etc. That way, each recipient can receive the appropriate assistance in a necessary quantity.”

Steve smiles slightly at the thought of it. Elizabeth Thornton is trying to take on the responsibility of caring for the nation, at this rate. And he had no doubt she could manage it.

He takes his mug from her when she finishes stirring, thanking her, “What do you see the outcome of it being?”

“Well,” Liz picks up her own mug, but does not take a sip, having an answer ready for him. She had already needed to justify her plans to so many others, “I genuinely believe that by helping people, there will be less corruption within the force. Most corrupt officers, in a whole range of situations, simply see no other choice. I want to give them one.”

Steve takes another gulp of his tea, staring at her. He thinks of Gates. He had no choice, in the end. He is dead because of it. Perhaps, if someone was there to help him and to listen, there may have been something to stop it.

Liz continues to speak, unable to stop herself talking about her life’s ambition now that she has been started, and encouraged by Steve’s intrigued silence, “I also want the network to establish a wellbeing outreach test for officers and staff to complete once every six months. It will just be a survey, or perhaps an face-to-face meeting if they request it. But that way, we can give appropriate, regular guidance based on their result profiles.”

“That’s why I met with you on my first day with AC-12,” Steve states, realising it must have been for her network research.

She nods, “Hastings was kind enough to offer me the spare office in the building, and said I could use AC-12 officers as a trial for the scheme. That why, I have data to present to any national boards that might be interested.”

“And are they?”

“Hm?”

“The national boards, are they interested?”

“I have had a few meetings, but it is early days yet,” Liz exaggerates. Three years? Early days? But she remains hopeful.

“How did Hastings know about your research?” Steve asks, raising the mug to his lips again but pausing when he sees her enthused smile fade.

She hesitates, placing her untouched tea on the side, “Oh, he was a client.”

Steve is doubtful. Would a client trust her enough to drive off in his car tonight the way Hastings did with Liz? Steve knew for sure he trusted her now himself, but to drive away in his car without his knowledge? There must be more to it.

As he was about to ask her, an alert went off on her phone. Pulling it out of her pocket, she reads the reminder, “Damn.”

“What is it?”

“I have an appointment to meet with a new wellbeing officer at the Derby branch tomorrow, just to check up on how she is doing. It is quite a long drive so I need to be up early,” Liz groans, “It is late. I should be going.”

“Oh, right,” Steve says, hiding his disappointment. He had enjoyed her company, getting to know her better.

She grabs her jacket off the back of the chair, swinging her arms into it, “Thank you for the tea.”

“Anytime,” he meant it, if they even had any time between their work.

Walking her to the door, he turns to her before opening it. 

“So, I didn’t even ask,” Liz begins, unsure and quite embarrassed she had talked about herself for so long, “Are you sticking around? Will I see you at work on Monday?”

Steve seems to contemplate it, knowing she is referring to him staying on as an officer for AC-12.

He opens the door for her, “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Liz grins again, relieved. Turning to leave through the door she calls back, “I’ll see you at the hearing first. Text me the details.”

“See you then,” he waves, watching as she sends him a wave before getting into Hastings’ car and driving away.

He closes the door, smiling to himself. He feels more assured about his future at AC-12, knowing Liz has his back. Steve doesn't feel so alone anymore.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here, have an extra long chapter to apologise for being too busy to write for a few days!  
> I hope the interview scenes aren't too long - but then again, that's just the show! I want Liz more involved in the seasons going forward, but to do so means to write the interrogation scenes. so please let me know how you feel about this one and any constructive feedback!

"The transit convoy was ambushed," Hastings explains as himself, Kate and Steve look through the window at the patient, "We have been assigned to investigate the possibility that a police officer or officers tipped somebody off."

Kate and Steve nod in understanding.

"Who is he?" Kate asks, gesturing to the man in the hospital bed, covered head to toe in bandages and tubes.

"Classified," Hastings shrugs, "He was under witness protection. New identity, relocation, the works."

"And how is he, sir, the witness?" Kate asks, watching as a nurse tends to the man.

"Critical but stable."

After inquiring some more with the nurse assigned to the witness, the three leave the ward.

Kate frowns as they begin down the corridor, "You said he was in a convoy, sir. Who was in the other vehicles?"

"Just one other vehicle driven by our only other survivor, DI Lindsay Denton."

"Well, when can we talk to her?" Steve asks as they continue down the hallway.

"She's currently in counselling," Hastings explains with a small grin.

Steve's brows raise, hopefully, "Lizzie?"

Kate smiles to herself at the nickname. Steve had begun calling their friend that a few months back, to all their surprise. The two had grown close over the last year since Steve was transferred to AC-12. Kate believed Liz was as much Steve's friend as she was hers. It was nice.

Hastings confirms with a nod, "I managed to pull some strings. Best thing for us to keep Denton as close as possible. Beth will report to me after their meetings, tell us what she can."

Steve nods, pleased. He knows Lizzie will not be able to divulge all that is said in the meetings, but a regular profile on the suspect will be useful. And Lizzie was the best at what she did.

"Are we allowed to know the names of the other deceased officers?" he asks.

"From 4th Street Station; Sergeant Alex Wallis and PC Vincent Butler. The third victim's name is being withheld from the public as she was from witness protection: DS Jayne Akers."

Steve notices as Kate's step falters beside him as they reach the elevator.

"Sorry, sir," Kate clears her throat, "I'll be down in five."

Steve watches, confused, as she swiftly turns away in the direction of the toilets before stepping after Hastings into the lift.

* * *

Steve sighs as he sits at his desk the next day. Witness protection was off-limits, Hastings had informed him. The Major Violent Crimes Unit were going after the gunmen. That left AC-12's brief to look into the suspcion of information leakage by a police officer being part of the ambush. Lindsay Denton was the only 4th Street officer left alive, making her their primary target.

Just then, the door to the office opens.

"Lizzie," he calls out, catching the woman's attention as she passes the desks.

She turns to him with a warm smile and approaches, happy to see him and even happier at the nickname, "Steve, hey. How are you?"

"Good, yeah," he looks at the file she holds in her hand, "How did the session with Denton go?"

Liz lets out a short hum, raising the file slightly, "Just on my way to give this to Hastings. I hope it can be useful."

"DS Arnott," someone calls, Liz turning to see a young, brunette woman approach them.

"Denton is coming for her first interview at fourteen-hundred," the young woman informs, looking between Steve and Liz.

Steve nods, looking to Liz to see her gazing unfamiliarly at the other woman, "Liz, this is DC Georgia Trotman. She's assisting the investigation."

Liz's eyes widen as she recognises the name, "Of course. I'm Elizabeth Thornton, the wellbeing officer for this branch. We emailed about an initial appointment."

The other woman smiles gently, accepting her hand in a quick shake, "Oh, yes. Pleasure to meet you."

"I'm so sorry about having to cancel our meeting, things have been a bit hectic since taking on Denton as a client," Liz explains, shaking the profile in her hand for emphasis, "Hopefully we get to talk soon. We should email again about availability. Or my office is just over there."

Georgia agrees, turning and heading back to her desk with a pleasant smile.

Liz turns back to Steve, who has a less-than-pleased look on his face, "Kate isn't on the case?"

"She requested it," Steve drearily explans, to Liz's surprise, "Said she knows Akers, one of the officers killed in the hijack. Trained with her. Wants to keep work and personal life separate."

Liz nods slowly, knowing a few details of the case from her meeting with Denton but not entirely as most of it was classified, "Jayne Akers?"

"Yeah," Steve says, then realising that if Kate did, Liz trained with her too, "You knew her."

"Hadn't spoken to her in years. She was nice. Always very patient with me, unlike most of them," Liz says, sadly, "Kate kept in touch, though, with her and her husband, Richard. He also trained with us."

Liz remembers the numerous times she has seen Richard's name pop up on Kate's phone while they are out or in the office. Her friend is always quick to swipe the notification away. Herself, Kate and the Akers' were close during training, and Liz always thought it nice them and Kate kept in touch. But not quite  _ that _ close. Whatever suspicions Liz held, she reminds herself Kate's old friend was killed in the hijacking. For her to back out of the case completely, which is entirely unlike her, it may be too upsetting. Kate may genuinely be grieving for Jayne. Liz makes a mental note to catch Kate to ask her about it later, make sure she is alright.

"Will you be around for long?" Steve asks, hoping, after Kate abandoning him, Liz being counsellor to Denton will mean he has some company in the office.

"Well, Lindsay has requested I be present at her interviews, so you might even see more of me than usual," Liz explains, seeing the way Steve's shoulders seem to relax as she does.

Liz noticed the way he clouded when Georgia approached. He must be more nervous about not working with Kate than she thought he would be. The two had become quite a formidable duo, especially after the Gates case. Steve still seemed a little unsure from time to time about his part in all this, but working with Kate seemed to ground him and give him something to look forward to. Kate understood how he worked, often encouraging him or putting him in his place when needed Liz understands this must be rather testing for him.

"Give her a chance," Liz says, quietly so the young woman she refers to cannot hear from a few desks away.

Steve rolls his eyes slightly, crossing his arms defensively.

"I know it must be daunting, not working with Kate on this. But you were the new guy once too," Liz says, pointedly. 

Steve nods, knowing (once again) she is right. He just doesn't know if Georgia is up to it. Then again, as Lizzie implies, many had their doubts about him at the beginning - even himself. Maybe it was unfair to judge the young woman this soon. And, admittedly, it was a lot to do with missing Kate. They had the Denton interview soon, that will tell all.

"And I think with Denton, you're going to need all the help you can get," Liz says, truthfully, noticing the contemplative look on his face.

Steve frowns, "What do you mean by that?"

Liz sighs, lifting the file again, "Struggled to put it into words. She's just… difficult."

"You think she's involved?"

"I don't know," Liz's mouth twists in thought, "I can't say what we have talked about but everything she says just seems calculated? Rehearsed, even? I think she's going to be a tough one."

"Beth!" 

The pair turn to see Hastings stood in his office doorway. He waves her over.

Liz turns back to Steve with a small smile, "Once I am done in there, I will be in my office until Lindsay arrives."

Steve watches her walk over to the older man, before returning to his computer and sending an uneasy glance to the young DC who is watching from her desk on the other side of the office.

* * *

_ Buzzzzzzzzzzz! _

The recording machine's lengthy alert cuts through the tense silence in the interview room. Liz had met Denton and her representative at the door, introducing them to the AC-12 office. Once inside the small meeting room, they were met by Hastings, Steve and Georgia who prepared the desk with various files and documents. Once they had removed their jackets, something Liz assisted Denton with as the woman currently wore a neck brace, and sat down, Georgia began the tape.

Liz watched from beside Denton and opposite the young DC as the interview began. She, herself, felt quite nervous, not having been in an interview before. It was rather intimidating being sat at the table opposite three investigators. Though, she had to admit, she was rather intrigued to learn some details of this case. Usually, Liz observed from the sidelines as AC-12 conducted their business. It was difficult to keep up with Steve and Kate when they told her what they could about investiagtions like Gates or even smaller cases. Hastings had requested Liz be assigned to Denton, did what he could to make it happen. So she knew this had to have been a big one. 

She felt slightly useless, not having the responsibility of an investigator or representative, or even the witness. But Lindsay had requested she be there, most likely wanting to see a familiar, friendly face. So here she was.

Georgia began, "AC-12 interview. DI Lindsay Denton and Federation Representative DI Samuel Royal in the presence of Superintendent Hastings, DS Arnott and DC Trotman. Also present is Wellbeing Counsellor to DI Lindsay Denton, Elizabeth Thornton, at the request of the interviewee."

Hastings takes a breath before beginning himself, "DI Denton, thank you very much for coming in today. Let's be clear, you are being interviewed today as a witness not as a suspect in any matters of crime, discipline or misconduct."

Denton timidly clears her throat beside Liz, "Whatever I can do to help, sir."

Liz glances at Steve from across the table, hoping he also catches on to the way Denton's words can seem, as she said before, rehearsed. The suspicious look in his eyes suggests to her he has noticed.

"Thank you," Hastings sends her a small smile, "So, how did you come to be involved in the operation that took place on the night of September 5th?"

"Just bad luck," Denton sighs, "I was on the ghost rota. The Duty Sergeant took a call and passed it on to me."

"And what was said in that call?"

"The caller identified herself as DS Akers. DS Jayne Akers," Lindsay explains, "Akers, or the individual identifying herself as Akers, advised me that there was an immediate and credible threat to the life of a protected witness."

"Did she expand on the nature of that threat?" Hastings asks.

"No, she did not."

"Did she give any explanation as to where that information came from?"

"No, she did not."

"Go on," Hastings encourages.

"DS Akers requested assistance," Lindsay went on to say, prompting Steve to speak.

"You were the duty station."

Royal, Denton's representative cuts in then, "DI Denton is entitled to be questioned by an officer at least one rank superior."

Steve fights the urge to roll his eyes, leaning back in his seat. His eyes catch Lizzie's, who raises her eyebrows at the other man's patronising tone.

"Sam, it is all fine," Denton assures, "We were the duty station as at that time Akers and the witness were located within the precinct of 4th Street station and 4th Street estate."

"And did you share that information with the officers of 4th street station?" Hastings inquires, referring to the two officers that were killed in the ambush.

"No, I did not, sir."

"You did not?" Hastings is surprised, "Why not?"

"DS Akers impressed on me the secure nature of our communication, and that I should only involve others when strictly operationally necessary," Denton explains, voice quiet, "I invented a cover story involving the arrest of a missing persons suspect."

Steve speaks next, "You shared the information with no-one?"

"I discussed the matter with Deputy Chief Constable Dryden. I sought his approval to render assistance."

Hastings frowns, "Didn't DS Akers advise you to inform as few people as possible?"

Denton responds matter-of-factly, "A critical incident response of that type requires Gold approval, sir."

"Quite right," Hastings praises her professionalism.

"Do you always adhere to regulations?" Steve challenges.

Denton looks at him, blankly, "That's what they're there for."

"I can see you and I are going to get along like a house on fire, DI Denton," Hastings cheerfully comments, "So, Deputy Chief Constable Dryden. What induced you to call him in particular?"

Denton hesitates, causing Liz to glance at her. Lindsay had mentioned Dryden briefly in their counselling session, with Liz falling under the impression their relationship went slightly beyond the bounds of professionalism. But she was not at liberty to say so. As it was discussed in their meeting, that was confidential and only Lindsay's information to share as and when she wished.

"Uh, an incident occurred a few months ago in which the Duty CS failed to answer; DCC Dryden made it clear he could be contacted in such circumstances," Denton tells, "I think it was his way of finding out which brass were pulling their weight and which weren't."

Hastings chuckles at that, before asking, "And why did you assign Wallis and Butler?"

Denton swallows guility at their names, "They were two officers I knew by reputation. They could handle themselves."

"Two unarmed officers," Steve challenges, his brow raised questioningly.

Liz sees Georgia send him an uneasy glance, shocked at his accusatory tone. Hastings also sends Steve a glance, yet turns back to Denton in agreement with him, "No fire-arms? No backup?"

"If there was anything I could do to reverse that decision, sir," Denton sadly whispers.

"DI Denton's statement records she was acting under DS Akers' instructions," her representative claims.

Hastings holds his hands up a little, still looking at Denton, "Nobody's blaming you. I mean, if those were Aker's instructions. I just thought you might think they were.. a bit irregular?"

Denton thinks for a moment, her lips pursed. She clearly struggles to think of an excuse.

Steve speaks up, almost mocking her for it by offering an explanation, "You took the view it was Akers' area of specialisation?"

"Exactly," Denton claims.

Steve nods, slightly patronising. Liz watches Georgia send him a small glare before leaning forward in her seat, "The ambush, ma'am, must have been frightening."

"It was," Denton suddenly turns to look at Liz, knowing that is something they have discussed in their meeting. Liz sends the woman beside her a small, comforting smile, assuming this was why Lindsay wanted her there. To encourage her when she found it difficult to discuss the events of the ambush. The woman had seemed shaken by it, as anyone would be. Liz was there to help her confront and process it.

Liz leans forward to pour Lindsay a glass of water, hoping it may relax her and get her to speak about her ordeal to the others. It was the only thing she could do, otherwise feeling rather useless in the room. Lindsay accepts it gratefully, raising it to her lips with a shaky hand.

"You ever experienced anything like that before?" Steve questions.

"No, thankfully," Denton breathes, placing the plastic cup back on the table in front of her.

"That's true, isn't it, DI Denton?" Hastings inquires, "You've held down a lot of desk jobs. You're a bit of a 'backroom detective'."

Denton looks Hastings straight in the eye, defensively, "I believe I've done important work, sir."

"Absolutely,, absolutely" Hastings exaggeratedly assures, leaning back in his seat.

Georgia's eyes flit to Hastings irritatedly before she looks to Denton, "You did well in a very testing situation, ma'am."

"Thank you," Denton mutters, looking at the young woman across from her.

"You've never faced an anticorruption hearing before, have you, ma'am?"

"No."

Georgia opens a file on front of her, beginning to read the information aloud, "In 2002, DC Denton alleged a colleague was falsifying witness statements. The complaint was upheld; the officer was disciplined."

Liz looks over to Steve, seeing him glare at the woman she she spoke, shaking his head slightly.

"In 2007," Georgia continues, boldly directing the information more at the two men beside her than Lindsay herself, "DS Denton alleged a colleague was making fraudulent expenses claims. The complaint was upheld; the officer was disciplined."

Liz admires the way the younger woman challenges the other investigators, agreeing with her to an extent that they were being too forwardly suspicious, especially since they stated this was a witness interview and Denton was not yet an official suspect. Georgia clearly believes Denton to be innocent until proven guilty, as the saying goes. But, while Liz empathises with her, she knows impartiality is crucial to the job. Then again, Liz supposes Steve seemed a little too adamant Denton has something to hide and already suspects her, just based off coincidental evidence. So, maybe DC Georgia Trotman will do the team some good. Help to balance things out. Liz just hopes Steve, who is currently glaring at the young DC, gives her a chance.

Georgia continues, "DI Denton has demonstrated the utmost probity throughout her service career."

Hastings hums, nodding, "Takes courage to make a moral stand against your fellow officers."

Liz thinks of Steve, how he did the same in the Ali case.

"Except sometimes, they don't see it that way," Hastings says.

Denton glances at Liz again, knowing she shared her experiences with the 4th Street officers after the ambush. Liz can't help but empathise with the woman, who has been tormented by her colleagues who believe her to be solely responsible for the death of their two fellow officers.

Hastings clears his throat again, "I direct you to document seven in your folders. Document seven, for the tape, is a map showing the location of the safe house, the ambush and 4th Street Station.

Liz watches as Steve turns on a screen, a map appearing with arrows marked onto it.

"For the tape," Steve explains, "I am indicating the route taken that night. Two unmarked police vehicles departed the safe house. The most direct route to 4th Street Station is via A roads. Instead, the vehicles travelled along Crown Avenue and then turned left onto Long Lane. Almost immediately after which the ambush took place."

Hastings turns away from the map to Denton, "Agreed and accepted?"

"Agreed and accepted," the woman mutters.

Steve continues, "The decision was taken not to go the fastest way, via A roads."

"That's correct," Denton affirms as he pauses.

"DI Denton was following DS Akers' instructions," Royal speaks up, assertively.

"Akers chose the route?" Steve asks Denton, uncovinced.

"Yes."

"This back route," Steve turns back to indicate to the map, "would lead to 4th Street Station, but only if you continued along Crown Avenue. The vehicles turned left into Long Lane."

"Yes."

Hastings speaks now, suspiciously, "You didn't question that decision?"

"No, sir."

"You had a radio, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"So, why didn't you question the decision?"

"Can we take a step back please," Royal cuts in, again, to the investigators' annoyance, "and remind ourselves DI Denton is being interviewed as a witness?"

Hastings sends the representative and Denton a friendly smile, "Absolutely."

Denton speaks up, voice controlled, "The decision appeared to make sense at the time. There were road works on Crown Avenue with temporary traffic signals controlling a single lane. It was a potential hold-up that would've left us vulnerable."

Steve leans forward, eager to refute, "There were no road works on Crown Avenue that night. Works had been completed the day before."

"I wasn't aware," Denton admits, voice beginning to tremble.

"You didn't think to make a point of getting up-to-date travel information?" Hastings asks, patronisingly.

Denton scratches her head, distressed, "No."

Steve pushes, "You said Akers chose the route but seem very familiar with the arguments. You were the ranking officer."

"You and Akers discussed the route between you. That's more likely, isn't it?" Hastings offers, discrediting her lack of explanation.

Denton remains silent, looking fixatedly at the plastic cup in front of her and trying to hold back tears. She shakes her head slightly.

"Not more likely?" Steve asks.

Royal sighs, "I think we should stop there."

Hastings looks pointedly at the woman in front of him, "Are you withdrawing your cooperation, DI Denton?"

"No," Denton speaks up for herself, "Of course I cooperate."

Steve takes that as his chance to push further, "Your vehicle was the only one that wasn't shot at."

Liz had to admit, despite her sympathy for Lindsay, it did look suspicious.

"They didn't need to," Denton explains, quietly, "They knocked my car off the road. I took cover inside until they fled the scene."

She lifts the water again with a shaky hand, breathing heavily as if recollecting the events of the ambush pains her.

"You were in fear for your life," Hastings states.

"Understandably," Georgia comments, sympathising more with the woman as she fights back tears.

Steve, however, seems unbothered by the emotional display, "According to the pathologists report, Wallis and Butler died almost instantly from gunshot wounds. But Akers and the witness were still alive."

Denton swallows again, blinking away tears, "The witness managed to put out the flames. But Akers, she- she couldn't. I, er, threw my coat over her."

"Well done, ma'am," Georgia says, sympathetically.

Liz almost startles as Lindsay reaches out for her hand, gripping it almost painfully. Her heart pained to see the woman in such remorse and discomfort. It was at times like this she almost felt bad for having reservations about Lindsay's authenticity. Steve looks away somewhat guiltily as he watches Liz compassionately return the hold on her client's hand.

"Did you help get them out?" Hastings asks, almost hesitantly after seeing how upset it made the woman to talk about it. But, as Steve was also reminding himself, they had a job to do.

"They came out themselves, sir," Lindsay whimpers, "They, er. They were already burning."

A tense silence overcasts the room. Liz watches as Lindsay wipes away a fallen tear from her cheek. She couldn't imagine seeing something as awful as that. It sounded just as horrifying as the first time Lindsay told her what happened.

Georgia speaks first, "That must have been a horrible sight."

"It was," Denton cries, softly.

Hastings sighs, "We all appreciate you have been through the most terrible situation. But we have a job to do. What we are trying to get at here, DI Denton, is how those gunmen knew where you were that night."

"I wish I could help you, sir," Denton exclaims, wiping away more tears with the hand not in Liz's.

"You do understand what we're investigating here, don't you, DI Denton?" Hastings says, firm, "The possibility of an information leakage."

Denton nods, feebly, "Yes, I understand."

"An information leakage can only happen in two ways. Deliberately..."

"Officer corruption," Steve finishes for Hastings, "They are in with the criminals."

Hastings nods, "Or accidentally…"

"Officer incompetence. They fail to communicate securely."

"This has to stop," Royal once again intersects, "If DI Denton is under suspicion, you need to issue her with a Regulation 15 Notice."

"This is still information gathering," Hastings explains to the man, Liz noticing his patience beginning to wear thin, "We are a long way from a Reg. 15."

Steve leans forward again, impatient to continue despite the representative's grievances, "Under AC-12's blanket authority to vet any officer relating to an ongoing investigation, we carried out financial checks on DI Denton."

Liz looks to Lindsay worried, feeling the woman grip onto her hand a little tighter and take a deep, anxious breath. Steve drops a file in front of each of them.

"Our strongest suspicion is that criminal interests tried to assassinate the witness to stop him from testifying," Hastings explains, "Now, those criminal interests would pay a pretty penny for an inside man or woman. And any officer with the financial difficulties  _ you _ are in, DI Denton, is duty bound to declare it on the grounds that you could be vulnerable to bribery."

Liz does not need to open the file in front of her, knowing what they are referring to. Her heart pangs for the woman beside her, no doubt upset by the exposure of something so personal. Liz almost finds it ironic Hastings has the guts to use this against her, knowing he harbours some money trouble himself. But, she knows they are the investigators and they must do what they can to get to the truth.

"You're in debt up to your eyeballs," Steve bluntly claims.

Royal waves an infuriated hand, "Stop the tape. We are finished here."

Liz watches as Georgia hovers her hand over the stop button on the audio recorder, only for Denton to speak up again.

Letting go of Liz's hand, she places it back in her own lap, feeling bold enough to speak on her own, "My mother had to go into a nursing home. The council wouldn't pay. So we sold her house, but it wasn't enough. So then we sold mine, but there was negative equity."

Liz looks away from Denton to study the guilty expression on Steve's face. She feels as though she should have told him, having known about the reasons for Denton's financial troubles. But what was said in their meeting together is confidential. She couldn't have said.

Denton continues, more tears building in her eyes, "My mum is being taken care of but I am stuck in a horrible little place that I hate and.. you people-"

Royal advises her to stop, but Lindsay continues to seethe, "You people, you sit there and try and twist some case out of my misfortunes. All I did was my job. That's all I have ever done."

The room watches in silence as she wipes away tears, "I shouldn't have even been on duty that night. I'd do anything not to have been there, not to have picked up that call, because for all I know it is going to take away the one good thing in my life; and that is being a police officer."

The room remains silent. No one is sure how to respond.

Royal begins to pack away his documents, "Are we done?"

Hastings sighs, with a nod, "Yes. Yes, we are done. Thank you DI Denton. We wish you a swift recovery."

The three investigators watch as Denton stands from her chair, refusing to meet their eyes.

Liz stands herself, helping Denton into her coat.

"I'll walk you out and we can arrange our next appointment on the way," Liz offers.

Giving Steve and Hastings one last glance, unsure what to say, Liz picks leads the way out of the meeting room.

* * *

Steve stands on the balcony, watching as Liz signs Lindsay and her representative out at reception, thoughts of the interview and case running wild in his head.

Georgia joins him, following his gaze to watch as Denton and her representative hand in their visitor badges and follow Liz to leave the building. She looks to the man beside her, still bothered by the interview, "That how it works here?"

Steve turns, noticing her for the first time with his brow furrowed, "Sometimes."

"You should have told me you were going to treat her like a suspect."

"We weren't. She did that herself."

"She was defenceless in there."

"That's her rep's job, not ours," Steve says, bitterly, watching as the man walks away from the two women below.

"What's ours then?" Georgia challenges.

"Catching criminals," Steve claims, as if it should be obvious to her, "The criminals we catch happen to be police officers. That's all there is to it."

Georgia crosses her arms, "You think she's a criminal?"

Steve looks away again, unsure. Even he thought they were perhaps too harsh, seeing how devastated Denton seemed recalling the events of the ambush. Then again, Liz had been right to say Denton somehow seemed too… rehearsed. Something was off.

"Well?" Georgia prompts.

"No," he admits.

"So what gives you the right to treat her like one?"

Steve looks the young woman in the eye, affronted by her audacity to question him. After all, she is the new officer here, "I've been through it. That gives me the right."

Georgia refuses to relent, "And, having been through it, it doesn't bother you?"

Steve takes a moment to think about what she has said. But whatever doubts he has, his experience and determination wins over, "If this is not for you, all you need to do is say."

"It's for me," Georgia states. She refuses to let his man get to her. Georgia unfolds her arms, resting on the balcony to look back down at Liz and Denton, who continue to converse. She glances at Steve to find his gaze back on them as well, "You and her?"

Steve's eyes snap up to hers, questioningly. Prompted by his confusion, Georgia pointedly looks back at Liz, who is currently holding the glass entrance door open for Denton, "Are you together?"

Steve follows her gaze, still confused, until it hits him. His eyes widen while his hands fly to his pockets, "What?"

The woman at his side just watches him, inquisitively. He swallows hard, almost choking.

"No," he continues to deny, "No we are just friends, colleagues."

Georgia smirks, amused by the slight, revealing break in his suddenly raised voice. Steve looks away from the woman beside him, his gut twisting embarrassedly. He tries to look away from the glass windows at the building's entrance, where Lizzie is conversing with Denton. He fails.

"Why would you think- Why do you ask?" he splutters.

Georgia removes her weight from leaning against the balcony beside him. Moving away as to walk back to the office, she cooly replies, "You hadn't smiled until she walked into the room."

With that, she leaves him. A satisfied smirk on her face, pleased she managed to render the man (who had been nothing but shut-off from her since she arrived) speechless. The dark shade of pink burning his cheeks making her chest swell with pride.

As the young DC walks away to the office, Steve turns back over the balcony. He lets out a breath and grips onto the bannister, as if steadying himself after being knocked back by the insinuation. He watches as Liz comfortingly pats Denton on the arm before the other woman walks away. Steve stands a little straighter as Lizzie walks back through the doors of the building. She looks up, happening to catch his eye on her. 

Lizzie sends him a small wave and cheerful smile. He smiles back, unable to stop himself.  _ You hadn't smiled until she walked into the room. _


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> make sure to kudos, comment and subscribe! I love hearing from all of you what you think!  
> not sure how I feel about this one as it is such a difficult few scenes to deal with in a slow-burn fic, but I hope it captures the confusion of feelings!

Liz sits in the church pew for the funeral of the three officers killed in the hijacking, including her old friend Jayne Akers. Kate, who is sat on one side of her, shifts uneasily in her seat as the music begins to blare, announcing the arrival of the coffin procession. Liz reaches for her hand in her lap, offering some comfort to what she assumes is Kate's grief.

Kate sends her an unenthusiastic closed-lip smile in thanks, gripping her friend's hand shortly before letting go. She doesn't feel grief as the coffin on Jayne Akers passes. Only guilt.

Steve, on the other side of Liz, turns to the back of the room. Over the crowd of heads, he sees Lindsay Denton watching the procession. Her eyes are cold, empty, unreadable. He almost wants to nudge Liz to turn around, hoping his intuitive friend could find something useful on the woman's face. But Liz seems occupied by something else.

Richard Akers.

The man, sat at least five pews ahead of them in the front row had turned to look back at Kate three times now. Not the coffin of his recently-dead wife that was making its way down the aisle toward him, but Kate Fleming.

Liz had thought, at first, he was just turning around to see his old training mates there, supporting him. But his eyes never found hers, only Kate. She knew they had kept in touch, Liz losing contact a little when she left the force to study wellbeing, but she hadn't realised they were _that_ close. It was difficult to maintain friendships in this sort of work, especially with the two of them both active members of the force. It certainly was not Liz's place to say, but she had her suspicions.

Liz turns to Kate as Richard looks away again, seeing the woman carefully avoiding her eye.

Turning back to the front of the church, where the three black coffins were now being placed by the altar, Liz frowns. As the priest begins to speak, she really hopes what she thinks may be happening isn't happening.

* * *

"I hate funerals," Hastings remarks, loosening his tie with one hand, his other on the steering wheel.

"I don't think anyone enjoys funerals, Ted," Liz looks to the man from the passenger seat, who rolls his eyes slightly at her.

"You were right, Denton is a tricky one," he says, throwing his discarded tie onto the back seat.

Liz hums, turning to look out the car window. She was tired. Denton, Georgia, Steve, Kate, Richard Akers - it was all a bit too much for today. Her head was starting to ache.

Unfortunately, Hastings continued to talk.

"Luckily, Steve and Trotman seem to be getting along better."

Liz turns back to him, her interest piqued.

"Hopefully the two of them will continue to work well together, get to the bottom of it all quickly," Hastings says, tapping his thumb in the steering wheel.

Liz is glad Steve has clearly listened to her and given the DC a chance. Though her headache worsens a little, pressure spreading to her brow.

"I was thinking of taking them to dinner. You know that fancy restaurant in the city Roisin always talks about?"

"You're taking them to dinner?" Liz exclaims.

"Why not?"

 _Because you never take your staff to dinner,_ Liz thinks. _You only ever take_ me _to dinner when you are trying to set me up..._

... _oh no._ Liz feels the pain in her forehead worsen, using a finger to attempt to massage it away. 

"Ted…"

"Why not?" he presses again, feigning innocence. Hastings knows the woman next to him has caught on to his intentions, she always does.

Liz sighs, dropping her hand into her lap from rubbing her sore forehead.

"I just see potential," Hastings begins, to Liz's dismay.

"For them as co-workers?" Liz prompts, hoping for that answer.

"For them as a couple," Hastings claims, bluntly. Liz groans, looking away to the window again, "What is so wrong with that?"

"I just don't think you should be pushing anything," Liz settles for, not really sure what else to say.

"I'm not! It could happen anyway," Hastings chuckles, as if oblivious to his passenger's discomfort, "Georgia is an attractive young lady, Steve is a good-looking young man-"

"Please, stop," Liz groans again, closing her eyes. 

It is embarrassing to her to hear Hastings talk about that kind of thing, especially the idea of him trying to set the two of them up. His attempts at setting her up with some young men he has met through the force had been unsuccessful to say the least. Liz feared, from those experiences, that this dinner could cause more harm than good. It sounded the two investigators had just started to bond and work well together, with Steve putting aside his stubbornness to give the girl a chance. He is doing what she asked, and she is pleased. Of course she is. She is just upset Hastings could ruin that. That's all.

Then again, Steve deserves to be happy. And maybe Georgia is that chance for him. Like she has thought before, Steve deserves someone who will be there for him, who will listen. Maybe DC Georgina Trotman could be that for him-

"How is Roisin?" Liz suddenly asks, gladly breaking herself out of her thoughts.

"Oh, uh, good the last time I spoke to her," Hastings says, voice suddenly void of all the previous cheeriness.

Liz's heart sinks at his tone, "So, things are still not going well between you?"

The man beside her sighs, eyes more focused on the road ahead than they had been a moment ago, "I was going to ask her to the dinner."

Liz nods, quiet. Things had been rough between the couple for the past few years, but especially in recent months. Liz did not know the full-story, with Ted only telling her the basics: something about a bad investment years ago and facing some money troubles. But she knew Roisin. A dramatic woman at times, maybe. But not any more than any other Irish wife. Still, she thought it best not to pry. The older man always closed off when talking about her. Liz could tell he was hopeful, though, that him and Roisin would rekindle their relationship. It just needed a little effort on his part first. This 'double-date', at a restaurant Roisin had mentioned many times in the past, could help.

"Yeah, she would like that," Liz encourages.

Hastings sends her a small smile in return, "You should come too."

"What?" Liz startles, "Why?"

"Roisin would love to see you, it has been a while," Hastings offers, "Besides, you and Arnott get along. He actually listens to you. Maybe you could help nudge something between the pair of them."

Liz feels her headache return in full force, now spread across her entire skull. She feels it burn behind her eyes.

* * *

Liz takes a breath before entering the restaurant. Ted had been right, it was fancy. She felt a little under-dressed as she passed a few tables, looking for the older man, still in her work trousers and shirt. She was starting to think she had the wrong date and time until someone called out from a table just behind her.

"There she is!"

She turns to see the group of four sitting at the table, thankfully only just having ordered some drinks. She just hopes she wasn't so late they had already ordered food. 

Liz smiles as the older woman stands from her seat as she approaches, familiarly beaming at her, "Roisin! So good to see you!"

"It has been so long! Almost four months," she says, opening her arms wide as Liz reaches the table, enveloping her in a warm hug.

"I know, I'm so sorry," Liz squeezes her back with a peck on the cheek, "You know how I am, head too stuck in the work sometimes."

Pulling away from the woman, she turns to Ted who has also stood from his chair and was watching the two with a warm smile, "Evening, Beth."

Liz leans over to give him a peck on the cheek too, "Hi, Ted. I hope I'm not too late. Have you ordered?"

"No, no. We only just got the drinks in," Ted says, sitting back down with his wife and gesturing to the other two present at the table.

Liz turns to them, smiling politely at Georgia and then looking at Steve. He just stares, eyes flickering between her, the Superintendent and his wife. He is no doubt wondering about the overly-familiar greeting she just received. Liz sits down at the end of the table, between him and Ted.

"Hey," she timidly says.

"Hey," Steve returns, but before he can ask whatever is on his mind, he is cut off by the older man on the other side of her.

"What's your brew for tonight?"

"Oh, uh," she surveys the glasses and bottles already on the table, carefully avoiding Steve's intensely curious gaze that threatened to singe her cheeks, "Was anyone having wine?"

"We discussed it but Steve already had a beer," Hastings explains, "But I am sure Georgia would share?"

The other young woman nods, "Of course."

"Great," Liz smiles, reaching for the wine list, "Red or white?"

"Either. Anything," Georgia says, rather eagerly.

"Maybe a rosè, then?" Liz asks, Georgia nodding, "Ok, um excuse me-"

As she calls over the waiter, Ted begins to address the rest of the table, telling his wife a little about the two young officers opposite them.

"So, Steve has been an AC for a year now," Ted begins.

Liz thanks the waiter as they leave, turning to join the conversation.

A cheerful, teasing grin spreads across Hastings' face, "And every day of that has felt like a lifetime."

Liz laughs, along with the others, watching as Steve amusedly looks down at his beer, "That'd make me about your age then, sir."

Liz smiles wider as the table laughs.

"He also likes the banter, the cheeky, wee b-"

"Ted!" Roisin scolds.

"Boy!" Hastings jokes, "I was going to say 'cheeky, wee boy'!"

Roisin smiles, rolling her eyes at her husband and turning to Georgia, "You're new to Ted's unit?"

Georgia swallows her sip of beer before smiling politely, "Yeah, uh, transferred from armed robbery."

"So you'll be at home here then.. with these prices," Ted cracks another joke, looking at the menu.

This prompts Liz to do the same, trying to decide between the cheapest and second-cheapest options.

"Make sure you save yourself room for dessert," Roisin says to Liz, who gives her a quizzical look, "They have toffee-banoffee-pie! On me, my treat!"

Liz feels her cheeks heat, burying her head back down in her menu to hide it. She can feel Steve looking at her questioningly again, only making it worse. When he realises he won't get an explanation from her, Steve turns to Roisin with a curious grin, "Toffee-banoffee-pie?"

He hears Liz groan quietly after he asks, only deepening his curiosity.

Roisin chuckles, sharing an amused mutual glance with Ted, "That has always been her favourite!"

Steve looks back at Liz, cruelly enjoying her embarrassment, despite his confusion at how the older woman would know that, "Oh really?"

"Oh, yes. Toff-boff she used to call it."

Steve laughs, raising his brows as Liz rolls her eyes beside him, clearly uncomfortable. Liz, a twenty-six your old woman, had a nickname for her favourite dessert? But that was the least confusing part about it.

As far as he knew, Liz had only worked with AC-12 and therefore Hastings for the past four years. After the year he had been there, Steve was only just meeting the Superintendent's wife. So, surely Liz had only met her a handful of times, too? Though that greeting and the way Roisin speaks about her suggests otherwise. And did Liz call her 'Ros'? Liz had opened up to him about many things, but she had always been hesitant to talk about her relationship with Hastings whenever he would ask, and it seems this dinner could finally give him the answers.

"Seriously, Ros, you don't have to," Liz pleads, refusing the woman's offer and wanting to move on from this mortifying conversation. She knew this was a bad idea. She should trust her instincts more often.

"Nonsense," Roisin waves a hand in her direction, still smiling, "What sort of godmother would I be if I didn't treat you every now and then?"

And there it was.

Liz almost laughs at the way Steve's eyes bulge. It was almost comical.

She gives the older woman a grateful smile, knowing from experience she would not relent, "Thank you, Ros."

"Godmother?" Steve asks, shoddily attempting to keep his surprise hidden.

Liz looks at him, apologetically, knowing she has purposely tried to hide the truth from him during the year they have known each other.

Roisin still smiles, "Did Ted never tell you?"

Steve looks at Hastings then, still shocked, "No, I had no idea."

"I thought you knew!" Hastings exclaims, giving Liz a brief confused look, "She must be _that_ embarrassed of me, huh?"

Steve shakes his head, still unsure what to say. Edward Hastings was Elizabeth Thornton's godfather. Why would Liz not have told him? A whole year. She continues to look at him, contrite.

"My father and Ted served together in the Royal Ulster Constabulary in Northern Ireland during the Troubles," Liz begins.

"Finest man I ever knew, Patrick O'Malley," Ted smiles, though Steve notices the sad glint in his eye as he does. He sees Liz do the same from the corner of his eye, the smile not quite reaching her eyes.

"O'Malley?" Steve asks.

"Thornton is my mother's maiden name," Liz explains, though Steve still wonders the full story behind her choice in surname.

"And what happened to him?" he asks, knowing Liz had mentioned before her father had passed away when she was young.

He watches as Liz meets Hastings' eye briefly before answering, quietly, "He was killed in the line of duty."

A silence fell over the table. Liz, Hastings and his wife seemed to solemnly reminisce for a moment as Steve and Georgia watched, rather awkwardly.

Steve's heart pangs as he looks to the woman beside him, seeing her face pale and sombre. He almost regrets asking, but decides he was only curious. Lizzie often persuaded him to open up about his own parents. Not that she had to, but there had been plenty of opportunities to tell him. Yet she decided not to. And there was still so much he did not know. Though, seeing how forlorn his friend currently looks as she raises the wine glass to her lips with the slightest shake of her hand, he decides against pushing.

Roisin breaks the silence first by asking, "How is work going for you, love? The network going well?"

Liz goes to answer, swallowing her mouthful of wine, but Georgia speaks up, "What network?"

"Lizzie is putting together a network of wellbeing officers in all force departments across the UK," Steve immediately speaks up to explain, surprising the others, "Wants to make it easier for staff and their families to get the right support at the right time. Counselling, workshops, resources - she's thought of it all."

"Isn't that just HR?" Georgia asks, as everyone always did.

Steve speaks up again, knowing how much Lizzie hates answering that question, "She's doing their job for them. But better."

Liz merely stares at him in amazement, taken back by the excitement in his tone as he talks about her project.

"What is the network called?" Georgia asks, intrigued.

"Oscar Kilo," Liz says, still slightly dazed from Steve's outburst.

"That's brilliant! Very clever," Georgia grins.

Steve nods, kindly smiling at Liz, "It is."

Liz begins to feel her face heat again at the compliments from the officers and the way both Ted and Roisin are grinning at her, proudly.

"Well," Liz says, quietly and breaking her eye contact with Steve, "It is still in early days yet. I only have a handful of officers recruited so far. Still gathering research. How about you, Georgia? How are you settling into AC-12?"

Steve's smile falters slightly, saddened Lizzie could not take a compliment without feeling the need to put herself down and deflecting the attention onto someone else.

Georgia swallows another sip of wine, giving Steve a wary look before answering, "Uh, good, yeah. I guess I should be asking these two that question."

Steve goes for a swig of his beer, hoping Hastings would answer and is relieved when he does, "You're settling in just fine. We are very lucky to have you. You and Steve, here, work very well together."

Liz holds back a groan, realising she has just played the conversation right into Hastings' hands. She continues swirling the wine in her glass, wishing to be anywhere else as the conversation shifts. Her stomach was twisting so uneasily that she doubted she would even be able to eat, for some reason.

"Thank you, sir," Georgia says with a smile.

"Thanks, sir," Steve says too, though with a short, unconvincing clearing of his throat. His eyes move over to watch Liz for a moment, noticing the way she is timidly fixated on her glass. He had never seen her so uncomfortable. _Why? And what was the reason for this dinner, anyway?_

The food was then brought to them and the rest of the meal went by fairly uneventfully, despite the rather non-subtle compliments Hastings insisted on dropping into every conversation about Georgia and Steve's partnership, much to Liz's horror.

Liz often caught her friend staring at her, but she would ignore this knowing he was likely just eager to ask her more about her father, Hastings and all of that. But now was not the time. Instead, she focused on the conversations being had.

As it turned out, Kate had reassigned herself to the ambush case, something Steve only learnt when he visited Denton at 4th Street Station to see his colleague filling the empty position of Linday's DC. Liz wonders as they discuss it, what has changed for Kate, reminding herself to call her friend later.

Liz had remained fairly quiet the entire evening, unable to discuss the case and her meetings with Denton - as well as feeling guilty she had not before told Steve about Hastings being her godfather and the truth about her parents. She hoped her quiet hadn't ruined the mood of the evening, or that Steve hadn't noticed. He had.

Steve wasn't an idiot. He was an investigator, it was his job to identify patterns and read people for hidden intentions. And Hastings wasn't exactly subtle about it, with his consistent mentioning of himself and Georgia getting along well. This was, as clear to him now, a set-up. So why was Lizzie here? She had obviously intended to hide her relationship with Hastings from him, for whatever reason he did not yet know. Yet, she came anyway, knowing it would likely be exposed. And this was likely a set-up for himself and the young DC on his other side. If she knew so, which he assumes she did, why would she come? The woman had been quiet all evening, clearly uncomfortable. Maybe she thought she would come to offer him support, knowing what Hastings was trying to do. But wasn't Lizzie also asking him to give Georgia a chance only a few days prior and suggesting he get to know her better? Or perhaps it had nothing to do with him, and she just wanted to see the woman who apparently helped raise her. _Why was Lizzie here?_

Liz was simultaneously asking herself that same question. She could have just said no, made up some excuse about having a meeting or extra profiles to type or something - anything! But here she is, sitting helplessly watching her godfather not-so-delicately try to set up her friend with his new colleague while simultaneously trying to rekindle his relationship with his wife. Ted had asked her to come, implying it would help him greatly with Roisin and their troubles. But was she doing it just for him? She supposes part of her was also intrigued to see if, as Hastings had insisted, Steve and Georgia really were getting along well, despite their initial differences. Curious as she had asked Steve to give the other woman a chance, as well as wary for her friend. Maybe she was also wary for Georgia, knowing Steve had been so-far rather harsh on her. Or perhaps it had nothing to do with Steve, and she just wanted to see the woman who helped raise her.

Either way, she couldn't ignore how she struggled to swallow down her food as she watched Steve and Georgia bashfully grin and glance at each other at Hastings' compliments.

* * *

As the group left the restaurant some hours later, Hastings having kindly offered to pay the entire bill, Roisin reaches out to hug Liz goodbye.

"Promise you'll call me soon, love," she pleads as she squeezes the younger woman.

"Of course, Ros," Liz says with a smile as she pulls back.

Roisin then offers, "Won't you come with us?"

"It would be out of Ted's way. I'll get the bus. I think Steve will be getting it too, so no need to worry," Liz explains, knowing the woman tended to still be protective. She also knew Ted would appreciate the time alone with his wife, after everything, despite how much she would love to be in their car and out of this cold, drizzle.

Roisin grins, glancing over to where Ted spoke to the two officers, then leaning closer to Liz again, "He's a nice young man, isn't he?"

"He is, yeah. He's been a good friend," Liz asserts, trying to ignore the suggestive tone to the older woman's voice or the way she winked at her.

Ted then approaches the two women, wrapping an arm around Liz in a goodbye, "Thank you for coming tonight, Beth."

"Of course! Thank you for the meal, and for this," Liz holds up the takeaway box in her hand.

"Do you think it worked?" Ted whispers, glancing over at the two officers who stood talking, quietly. 

Liz looks over briefly, not wanting to catch their attention by staring as obviously as Hastings was.

She sighs, "I don't know."

Ted winks at her, much like Roisin just did, before turning to walk away.

"Make sure to call!" Roisin calls to her.

"Goodnight, you two," Liz waves at the older couple.

"'Night," Ted smiles, then calls out to the other two, "Goodnight!"

"'Night, sir," the both call back.

Liz sighs again, before walking over to the two officers, glad the ordeal was now over with Ted gone. Or so she thought.

"What's that?" Steve asks as she approaches, gesturing to the small box in her hand.

Liz grins, embarrassed, "Toff-boff in a box."

Steve lets out a loud laugh at that, Liz bashfully blushing as he does, though relieved he doesn't seem annoyed with her. She shakes her head, unable to hold back a chuckle at his amusement (though at her expense) and playfully hits him on the arm.

Georgia smiles too, looking between the two of them, "Do either of you need a lift?"

"Bus stops just there," Steve nods, confirming Liz's hopes he would be getting on it with her. She did not enjoy walking alone at night in the city. They, of all people, knew who could be out there.

Georgia nods too, "Well, I am just up that way."

"Thanks for the offer, Georgia," Liz smiles as the other woman turns to leave, though is concerned about the beer and two glasses of wine she had just consumed, "Are you alright to drive?" 

Georgia just huffs, smirking. It looks as though the woman is going to turn away, but instead she looks back at the pair, "Do you fancy a night-cap?"

* * *

"I'll get this round," Georgia offers, heading to the bar as the three enter the pub.

"Thanks, just a beer for me," Steve says.

"And for me too, thank you," Liz smiles, gratefully.

They watch as Georgia walks away to make their orders, Steve then tapping Liz on the arm, "Let's find a table."

Liz follows him through the thursday-night punters to a small table in the corner. Once at the table, she removes her jacket and goes to sit beside him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Steve immediately asks, before she even has the chance to sit down properly.

Liz takes a breath, struggling to look him in the eye, before timidly admitting, "I haven't told anyone. Don't want people thinking I am only making progress through favouritism."

Steve frowns, "Why would they think that?"

"Ted was the one to put me into training at 19, after my mother passed. When that didn't work out and I got into counselling, he gave me the office at AC-12. Said I could gather research and begin sessions with his unit and staff before expanding to other branches."

Steve continues to frown at that, unsure why anyone who knew her would honestly think she was incapable of success without Hastings' influence. The Oscar Kilo network was expanding by at least three new officers every month, so she told him, with more and more branches requesting resources. And she was leading this all on her own. It was nothing but admirable. Everyone needs someone to give them a chance. For Lizzie, and Steve too he supposes, Hastings was the one to give it to them.

It saddens him to think Lizzie believed he would judge her. That he would think little of her for it.

“Does anyone else know?” he asks.

“Only Kate.”

 _Of course_ , he thinks. Steve wants to ask more about Hastings and her family, but knows this loud, dingy pub probably isn’t the best place for it.

“Here you go,” Georgia suddenly announces as she approaches the table with their drinks in hand. The pair turn away from each other to thank her as she places the beers in front of them. 

The conversation starts up again, Liz grateful the focus is no longer on her and her family history. Although, to her disappointment, the uneasiness of her stomach refuses to subside.

She watches, quietly with her beer, as Steve and Georgia talk with each other about work, their training and personal lives. Liz finds herself fixated on the way Steve seems to relax further and further into his seat as they talk, the grin on his face widening every time they banter. Liz almost feels as though she should not be there, intruding, as the tone seemed to develop into something more... flirtatious? Maybe Hastings was right. Maybe there was potential for something more between them.

Liz chugs her beer, scolding herself for being distracted and not focussing on the conversation.

“I’ll get this next one,” Steve offers, standing from his seat.

“No more for me, thanks. Maybe just an orange juice,” Liz says, pushing away her empty beer glass, “I have an appointment first thing tomorrow.”

It also had something to do with the way the alcohol was hitting her increasingly restless stomach.

Steve nods and walks away, leaving the two women at the table together. Georgia just sends her a small, somewhat awkward smile, before downing the last of her own beer. Liz struggles for something to say. _Why was this so awkward?_

Liz pulls out her phone, checking some emails just to avoid the looming silence. She is grateful when Steve returns.

“Bottles now?” Georgia teases as he places some more drinks on the table.

“Work in the morning,” Steve raises his beer bottle, having agreed with Liz when she decided to slow down.

“Oh, that little thing,” Georgia jokes as Liz puts away her phone into her pocket again.

Liz winces as she hears Steve laugh beside her at Georgia’s wit. Things were so much different between the two ACs than when they were first introduced.

“When I first arrived,” Georgia begins, as if reading Liz’s mind, “what did you say to Hastings, when you were alone in the office?”

“Just talking operational parameters,” Steve says, clearing his throat. Liz always knows he is likely lying when he does that. It was something she had picked up on over the past year.

“You’re such a crap liar!” Georgia accuses, apparently having noticed too.

Steve shakes his head with a grin, “I just wanted to know more about you.”

Georgia smirks, “Alright.”

The young DC leans forward with her arms folded on the table, looking Steve in the eye, “Here are three facts about me, but one of them is false.”

“You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, Trotman,” Steve crosses his arms too, also leaning on the table, “I do this for a living.”

“Well let’s see, shall we?”

Liz holds back another wince at the now outright flirtatious tone. A classic move. She takes a swig of her drink, wishing she had asked for another alcoholic one.

“I am a gifted horsewoman,” Georgia begins to list, “I won a poetry competition when I was 11. I’m a secret pool hustler.”

Steve takes a moment, exaggeratedly considering her facts before looking her dead in the eye again, “You don’t know one end of a pool cue from the other.”

“Is that a challenge?” Georgia smirks, a brow raised.

“You’re on,” Steve says as he stands. Georgia does so too, picking up her drink as they head towards the pool table in the corner.

Liz watches them with a sigh, taking another gulp of her juice before standing to follow after them. It was as if she wasn’t there. But that was what she wanted, wasn’t it? She could just leave. But, no, Steve was supposed to be getting the bus back with her. So she would wait. Also, a small part of her was quite curious to see how this would turn out, never having seen Steve flirt before. He seemed, mostly to her dismay, rather good at it.

At the pool table, Georgia demonstrates her apparent skill at pool, easily beating the man she had offered to play. Steve, standing beside Liz, was watching fascinatedly as the other woman proved him quite clearly wrong.

The uneasiness in Liz’s stomach continues as she studies him; notably the impressed gleam in his eye and ever-growing smirk. She couldn’t bear to look at it anymore. Her restless stomach was making her feel sick.

“I’m just stepping outside,” Liz whispers to Steve, “I need some air.

He doesn’t even look at her as he nods, attention stolen by the woman at the pool table. She isn't even sure if he heard her, but leaves anyway.

Once outside the doors of the pub, Liz leans against the wall, revelling in the cool night air of the city. Closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath, she thinks of all that has happened that evening. That question pops up in her head again. _Why was she there?_

Several possible reasons had all come to her throughout the evening, but none seemed to fit. For Hastings? For Roisin? Georgia? Steve? Or was it all just for herself?

But how could it be that? This evening was nothing but insufferable. She risked Steve finding out something about her she had tried to keep hidden - and for what? Why?

Jealousy.

Of course, it had crossed Liz’s mind that she had wanted to go out of jealousy, hearing Hastings’ enthusiasm at Steve’s budding relationship with the new DC. Steve was her friend, one of her closest friends. As someone with few of them, when someone else seemed to take their attention, how could she not be jealous?

She had no right to be jealous. Liz knew that. Steve was allowed to be with any woman he wanted in any way he wanted. Just as with her clients, it was not her place to judge or comment. But jealousy was a powerful thing. It made her fear she could lose what she had with her friend.

Perhaps, she thought coming tonight would prove to her their friendship had no threat? Not that she saw Georgia as a threat. The young woman was attractive, yes. Witty and intelligent, too. But Liz and Steve were friends, that was that. And she didn't want that to change. So, yeah. 

She came tonight out of protectiveness over her friendship with Steve. That must be it.

The way her head still throbbed suggested otherwise.

Opening her eyes at the sound of the pub door opening, Liz sees her two drinking mates appear. They stumble slightly as they walk a little ways down the road before Georgia leans against a wall to steady herself. Liz is about to walk over when she sees Steve lean forward. 

Liz freezes.

They kiss.

* * *

“Lizzie!”

She winces as she hears him call her name the next morning. She continues walking, making her way to Hastings’ office. To her dismay, Steve catches up to her.

“Where did you go last night?” he has the audacity to ask.

Liz rounds on him, scowling, “Home.”

Steve is taken back by her blunt tone, never having heard it before, “You disappeared on us.”

“I didn’t disappear,” Liz bites, “You didn’t bother looking.”

She almost scoffs at the way his eyebrows knit together in confusion, “What?”

“I guess you were just _busy_ ,” she shrugs, sourly, eyes involuntarily snapping to where Georgia stood at the photocopier.

Steve follows her gaze, his shoulders sagging as he realises, “Lizzie-”

“You didn’t even look for me, Steve!” Liz scorns, “You just left with her.”

Liz knows she should not shout as it will catch the unwanted attention of the office, so tries to control her voice. But she is just so… angry. She knows Steve is his own self, and can do whatever he wants to do. Who is she to question him? Steve is a young, attractive man who wanted to spend the night with a young, attractive woman. But he didn’t even think of her, his friend. Then again, why should he? But no. Honestly, she thought he cared about her more than to just ditch her in the middle of the night for some pretty face. That’s why she was upset.

Steve says nothing, only sighs. He knows he should have looked for her before leaving. But he had never seen Liz this angry, especially not at him. Back at the beginning with the Gates case, when Hastings and Kate berated him, Liz was the one to quietly reassure him and make them see his side. Yet, here she was glowering at him for going off with another woman. Steve knows he should have looked for her, made sure she got home safe. But, was that really deserving of such a reprimand?

“It was the horses, by the way,” Liz taunts, following his aggravating silence.

“What?”

“Georgia lied about the horses,” she explains, bitterly, “She requested a transfer from horseback training when she fell off and dislocated her shoulder.”

Steve says nothing. Liz must have found that in the woman’s file. His gut wrenches as Liz turns away from him, continuing to Hastings’ office without another word.

As she does, Georgia passes her with a small smile - one that she does not return.

Liz immediately regrets it, knowing the woman was not at all at fault. But there was that jealousy again; Georgia had come between her friendship with Steve. Though, the ache in her gut tells her it is more than that. But what?

“Beth,” Hastings greets as the woman knocks on his door as she enters.

Closing the door behind her, she takes a seat opposite him, trying to ignore her headache as she thinks over how she just spoke to Steve, “How was Roisin?”

Hastings sighs now, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“Not well?” Liz cringes.

Hastings shakes his head, to her disappointment. She had decided last night, after everything, she had gone to the meal to support him in rekindling his relationship with Roisin. It was difficult to hear, even for that reasoning, it had been for nothing.

“Did you have a good night?,” Hastings asks, somewhat hopefully, “A better night than me, anyway?”

Liz pauses, taking a breath, “Yeah, it was fun.”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again for everyone who had read so far and especially those of you who have left kudos and comments - it makes me SO happy hearing what you think!
> 
> another longer chapter, hopefully not too dialogue and exposition heavy. I just love the idea of Steve getting Liz to open up to him so easily and once her floodgates are open she just goes wooooooosh!!
> 
> enjoy!

“Have you heard from Steve?”

“No,” Liz replies to Kate who had asked to call her this morning, “Why?”

“You might want to go see him.”

Liz frowns, “Why? What has happened?”

She hears Kate sigh on the other end, “Georgia’s dead.”

* * *

Liz walks into the AC-12 office an hour later, immediately feeling the solemn mood of everyone at their desks. Kate had filled her in on the details of what happened, or as much as she knew. Pushed from a window by an assassin who successfully killed the Witness who had survived the Denton hijack. Apparently the guards at the door were distracted chasing an intruder, got locked out on a fire escape, allowing the assassin to pass through unchallenged.

It was just terrible. Such a waste of life.

She looks around for Steve, finding him standing facing away from her on the other side by his desk. She pauses before approaching him, having not spoken since she berated him about the pub and about… Georgia. Her heart sinks with guilt.

Coming closer to him, she sees he is looking at a whiteboard with various names relating to the Denton case written on it. He just stares at it, silently, not noticing her.

She speaks, quietly, “I didn’t take you for an old-school investigator.”

Steve turns to her, then, and she almost winces at the blankness of his gaze. It takes him a moment to realise she is referring to the whiteboard, “It wasn’t me. It was Georgia.”

He feels Liz reach out and place a hand on his arm, comfortingly. He revels in the slight contact, the warmth of her palm spreading through his body. The last 24 hours had been some of the most stressful of his life. Their argument, the witness, the assassin, Georgia. It was all too much. Hastings had suggested he take the day off to process it all. But he had to work. He didn’t want to be alone with himself; the missing answers, the lack of witnesses, the  _ guilt _ . That was why he was there.

“Would you like to come to my office?” Liz offers. He nods, glancing at Georgia’s neat handwriting on the board once more before following her.

Once at her office, Liz holds the door open for him, gesturing for him to take a seat. As he does, Steve lets out a deep breath, almost instantly feeling some of his stress relieve itself. Liz sits down after closing the door and turns to him, expression sympathetic.

“How is your head?” she asks, having heard about him being knocked unconscious by the assassin.

“Fine,” Steve replies, quickly.

“Steve, I am so sorry,” Liz whispers, unable to keep her voice steady as she does. There was so much she had to apologise for. Firstly, acting as though it was her business how he decided to spend his night with and who. Then, the way she berated him in the office for it, taunting him about Georgia. 

_ Georgia _ . 

That was what she felt the most sorry for. The way she had almost snarled at the woman the next day as she passed. That would be Liz’s last memory of her, and hers of Liz. It destroyed her to think about. She let her emotions get the better of her, and now it was too late to apologise. She can only hope Steve forgives her for it.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Steve whispers back, hoarsely, “I shouldn’t have left you that night.”

“Really, Steve, we don’t have to talk about it,” Liz says, not wanting to make him talk about his night with Georgia if it brought him pain to do so. She would much rather just put it behind them.

“No, I want to apologise,” Steve insists.

Georgia’s sudden death reminded him he does not want himself or his relationships with others to be held back by petty things. Visiting Georgia’s parents earlier that day was an emotional battle, seeing the way they grieved and feeling he could have done something to prevent it. He now knew life was too short and too vulnerable not to value the people closest to you. For him, that was Liz. He was in the wrong that night, and he wants Liz to know it.

Liz is unsure what to say. She has offered bereavement counselling numerous times over the last few years, but this one seems too personal to treat like she would any other client. She struggles to decide on her next words-

“Want a coffee?” Steve suddenly asks.

* * *

At the coffee shop they had first visited during the Gates case and many times since, Liz and Steve sit in a booth together. Steve ordered himself his usual flat white and offered to buy Lizzie her usual hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows. She smiles as he places it on the table in front of her, thanking him.

“I was interviewed by the Major Violent Crime Unit, Steve begins, “Basically hounded me for why I was there, asking who tipped me off. Couldn’t tell him, of course.”

Liz takes a sip of her hot chocolate, listening intently. She wanted to ask who had tipped him off about the assassin, but decided against it, not being an investigator on the case.

Steve glares at his coffee cup, “Hargreaves tried to blame it on me.”

Liz closes her eyes for a moment, infuriated yet saddened by the hint of agreement she heard in her friend’s voice, “It is not your fault, Steve.”

She has no doubt he is blaming himself, having been in the room and maybe capable of fighting off the attacker. But he was knocked unconscious. There was nothing he could have done.

Steve only nods slightly, perhaps unconvinced. Liz sighs, realising he won’t speak any more about it. She doesn’t blame him. It must be hard.

“Should have heard Hastings, though,” Steve says, the faintest ghost of a grin on his lips.

“What do you mean?”

“He came and got me out of the interrogation room, had a right go at Hargreaves about pressuring me to talk,” Steve says, “Hargreaves cut back with something about ‘leaving it to the real experts’.”

Liz chuckles, “I bet he really went off after that.”

Steve shares the chuckle, “You should have heard him. Now I know where you get it from.”

Liz’s jaw drops slightly, thinking of the way she had scolded him yesterday morning, until she notices the way his lips curl into a teasing smile.

“Steve, I said I was sorry,” she pleads, though with a smile at seeing his face having lightened up.

“And I said not to be,” Steve insists, waving his hand.

“Did you hear the latest on Denton?” Liz asks, deciding to change the topic to focus on anything but the urge to apologise again for what had happened between them.

He shakes his head, looking at her curious which prompts Liz to continue, “Her neighbour, Lorna Barrett, alleges she struck her with a bottle and beat her head against the floor.”

Steve sits upright, intrigued, “How do you know this?”

“Kate called me this morning, said Denton asked her to be present as she was brought up on it by her boss. Wanted a witness there or something,” Liz takes another sip of her drink, “Apparently Denton claims Barrett is an alcoholic with a long history of mental illness. I have an appointment with Lindsay later this afternoon. I’m hoping to bring it up.”

Steve nods, understanding and contemplating the information. As supposed, there was possibly more to DI Lindsay Denton than it appears.

“Kate said she saw Denton making a phone call at a payphone to the hospital before visiting her mother at the care home for exactly half an hour,” Steve explains, "In that half an hour, the protected witness and Georgia were killed.”

“Shit,” Liz quietly exclaims, realising what that insinuates.

“You couldn’t mention that to her too, could you?”

She sighs, “You know, even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.I wish I could help more, but I am not an investigator.”

Steve’s head drops slightly to look disappointedly at the table. Liz eyes him, sympathetically, “How about you come to mine tomorrow evening? I can tell you what I can and help you with the case. I am happy to help with a few minor details, but cannot divulge any confidential information.”

The man across the booth looks back up at her, “Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Great,” Liz smiles, grateful she now has the chance to not only spend more time with her friend, but perhaps use it to apologise more for their recent disagreement, “Let’s say around 7? I can text you my address.”

“Sounds good, yeah. I should go,” he says looking at his watch, to Liz’s disappointment, “I need to interview the witness’ nurse.”

Liz nods, understanding. She watches as he stands from the booth, before saying, “Just, call me if you need me, ok?”

“Thanks, Lizzie,” he says, before leaving the cafe. 

* * *

“Kate!” Liz smiles as her friend knocks on her office door the next day, “Should you be here?”

Kate smiles back at the other woman, leaning against the doorframe, “Just had to speak to Hastings. Had a question for you, though.”

“What is it?”

“Denton has taken on a missing persons case. Carly Kirk, 15. Has she mentioned her at all?”

“I told Steve,” Liz sighs, “I really can’t talk about anything Lindsay discusses in her appointments.”

She watches as Kate folds her arms, disappointed.

“But, no. She didn’t mention a new case when I saw her,” Liz offers, wanting to help her friend, “Why do you want to know?”

“Just seems strange that, in the middle of the hijack inquiry, she takes it on. Was wondering if maybe there was a reason she picked that missing persons in particular,” Kate shrugs.

“Maybe she just wants something to take her mind off the ambush,” Liz twists her mouth in thought, “Though, it is possible the case holds some emotional significance to her.”

Kate uncrosses her arms and takes a step forward, eager for her to tell more.

Lis continues, “It isn’t uncommon for criminals to return to the scene of the crime. Many will have a compulsion to return and relive the act. Though that does vary in reliability depending on the criminal and the crime.”

Kate nods, having considered the same, “Do you think Denton would be capable?”

Liz takes a breath, squinting her eyes as she continues her time spent with the woman, “Honestly? It is usually easier to spot the signs of a sociopath. With Denton, it is too hard to say. After the Lorna Barrett accusation, she may be capable of violence if triggered. But then, we all are.”

Kate hums, agreeing, “I went to her house the other night. Tried to make conversation. Got nothing.”

“She can be difficult.”

“Yeah,” Kate chuckles, humourlessly, “Held me back as I was about to leave. Started going on about some ‘interesting exercise’ where she takes the worst thing she has ever done and states it in the simplest terms. Asked me what mine was.”

Liz rubs her eye, “I suggested that to her. In one of our sessions. Did she tell you what hers was?”

“No,” Kate says, frustrated.

“Me neither,” Liz says, truthfully. Denton only opened up when she wanted to open up. She was calculating in that sense.

“I said something about not standing up for the truth, but she just looked me in the eye and told me I had ‘done worse than that’. Said I need to be honest with her.”

Liz’s eyes widen slightly, “Do you think she knows?”

“I don’t know,” Kate shakes her head, “Like you said, she can be difficult.”

Just then, Kate feels her phone vibrate in her blazer pocket. Pulling it out, she sees a text.

“Speak of the devil,” she mutters, “It is Denton. Has picked up a lead at A&B Carriage Repair, wants me there ASAP.”

“Be careful,” Liz says, a little more wary of the woman after their conversation, “You should tell Steve so he can send backup if necessary.”

Kate shakes her head, “No, no backup. Might blow my cover.”

“Well, at least have him on pocket-dial in case something happens.”

Kate offers her a slight smile, endeared by her worry, before leaving the office. Liz watches her go, concerned.

* * *

“Coming!” Liz calls at the knock on her apartment door. Placing the lid on the saucepan and wiping her hands quickly on the tea towel, she runs to it. Steve must be here early. Passing her laptop, she mutes the live feed of Dryden’s press conference she had been watching.

Walking to the door she curses, realising him being here early has given her no time to change out of her sweatpants and hoodie.

Opening the door, Liz finds it is not Steve at all-

Lindsay Denton.

“Evening, Elizabeth,” the woman greets, coldly.

“Hi,” Liz manages, unnerved by the blank expression on the woman’s face and wondering how she found her address, “Is everything ok?”

“Kate Fleming.”

Liz’s stomach drops as the woman states the name. Not as a question, as a fact. She knew her friend had been using the guise ‘Kate Foster’. Her undercover was blown.

“I’m sorry? You mean Foster, your new DC?” Liz frowns, moving slightly further behind her door as if trying to shield herself from whatever the woman was about to do. From what she knew was alleged about Lindsay, the attack on her neighbour and the ambush, Liz did not know what she was capable of.

“Don’t play games with me,” Denton scolds, baring her teeth slightly.

“Well, what about her?” Liz inquires, keeping her voice as controlled as she could. She knew from Kate that if her friend’s cover was ever blown she should continue the act for as long as possible, for her safety.

“Your number was on Kate  _ Fleming’s _ phone,” Denton emphasises the name, bitterly. Again, this was not a question but a statement.

How would Denton know that?

“There are many officers in the midlands with my number, I am assigned to many branches,” Liz explains, feigning confidence.

“Including AC-12,” Denton challenges.

“Occasionally, yes.”

“Have many meetings with Superintendent Hastings?”

“When he asks to, just as with any other client.”

“What about DS Steven Arnott?”

Liz mentally berates herself for hesitating, having no doubt Denton caught it, “Like I said, if a client makes an appointment request I will schedule a meeting. Truthfully, we have met a few times.”

“For counselling?”

“Yes, what else would it be?” Liz asserts, though her heart is beating rapidly knowing Steve was intended to arrive at her doorstep any moment.

Denton takes an intimidating step forward, Liz retreating a little further into her apartment but determined to stand her ground.

“And what,” Denton glares, patronisingly, “do you talk about in those meetings?”

Liz now stares up at the taller woman, “Whatever is discussed between myself and a client, as you well know, is confidential.”

“So, if you were to breach that confidentiality,” Denton bluffs contemplation, Liz knowing she knew this information already as it was made clear to her in their initial appointment together, “you would be susceptible to suspension? Possibly even sued, is that correct?”

Liz swallows hard, “Yes.”

Denton then smirks, unnervingly, before leaning closer to Liz and whispering, “Good to know.”

Still leaning tauntingly over Liz, Denton’s grin falls, her face once again blank, “You will be present at my second interview tomorrow.”

Liz watches, frozen in shock as the other woman walks away from her door and out of the apartment building without another word.

She slams the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment to catch her breath.

Denton knew Kate’s real name, her identity. She found their messages on her phone, meaning she must have taken it at some point. Denton had never visited her in her office, so could not have known she had an office in their building. But she named Hastings and Steve specifically, so she must know something.

Perhaps, she assumed Liz was working with them and Kate for AC-12. That maybe Lindsay thought Liz was telling them all that was said in their appointments. Liz would never, had insisted to Steve and Kate that she was bound by legalities. But Denton clearly does not trust her. And she must admit, it does look suspicious from her perspective. Or maybe Denton didn’t believe she had talked, and was warning her against doing so. Either way, it was terrifying.

Would she sue? For Liz to be suspended, even temporarily, it would be disastrous for her Oscar Kilo network. New, potential clients and maybe even authorities whose interest would be beneficial to its success may be dissuaded if she had a suspension for breaching confidentiality under her name.

If that was Lindsay's threat, what sort of bargain is it for her to be at the interview tomorrow? What leverage would that possibly give Denton over her?

How did she know her address? She never gives clients any personal details other than her work number and email address. Did Denton use that to track her? Did she go to all that effort just to threaten her? Was that even a threat? What did she know?

Was Kate ok?

Liz grabs her phone off her counter-top, pulling up Kate’s number.

She pauses. What if Denton still has Kate’s phone?

If she does, Liz cannot be seen to be messaging her so personally. That could be used against her, and Kate, if Denton did want to make a complaint. No, for now, it was better to keep this to herself.

Liz’s fluctuating mind is silenced by another knock on her door. 

Denton?

Liz breathed slow in an attempt to control her heart, which was beating more widely the closer she approached.

She opens the door.

“Steve,” she breathes, a relieved smile overwhelming her face.

“Hey,” he smiles, though notices they way her chest is heaving slightly, “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Liz says, flustered. She steps to the side, opening the door wider, “Come in, make yourself at home.”

“Cheers,” he says, stepping into the small apartment.

Liz closes the door behind him, quickly moving back to the hob where her saucepan threatened to boil over. Turning it off, she lifts the lid and begins stirring the risotto.

Looking back at the man who stands, rather awkwardly, in the middle of her flat, she smiles, “Take a seat.”

He smiles, doing just that and putting a bottle on the table, “I brought wine.”

“Thank you!” Liz exclaims, gratefully, “Very kind.”

“Least I could do seeing as you’re making the food.”

“Mushroom risotto,” Liz gestures to the saucepan she is stirring, “I hope that is ok?”

“Sounds perfect,” he responds, kindly.

“This just needs to cook for a few more minutes,” Liz explains, putting the lid back on the saucepan and turning to him, “Sorry, about these.”

Steve watches as she gestures down to her attire. It was quite a different look than he was used to, only ever having seen her in office clothes. Steve believes this was the first time he has ever seen her somewhat relaxed, not focused on her work. During the year they had known each other, they had only ever really seen eachother in the office, coffee breaks or the pub after work.

“I got side-tracked,” Liz explains, tugging at the sleeve of her hoodie.

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve smiles. He actually found it rather endearing, particularly the way the oversized hoodie seemed to swallow her up. The sleeves ignored her requests to stay rolled up past her elbows, constantly sliding down over her fingers as she tried to use her hands.

“Still, I just want to go change. Please, feel free to make a start on the wine,” Liz offers, heading down the hallway.

“Where are your glasses?”

“Oh, in that farthest cupboard there,” Liz points, “I will only be a moment.”

Steve walks over to said cupboard, pulling out two glasses and pouring the wine. After taking a sip, he turns back to her space, taking in her apartment.

It was rather simple, not much larger than his. Though much more personalised. Where his flat lacked decor, hers excelled. The walls and furniture were neutral, Steve supposed much like Liz herself in her job. Plants bloomed on almost every surface, evidently looked after extremely well judging by the luscious shades of green. There was no television, though Steve noticed her muted laptop on the kitchen counter was currently displaying the news. Walking further into the living space, adjoined with the kitchen, Steve studies the many shelves. He doesn’t think he had ever seen so many books crammed onto such a small plank of wood. There was a bit of everything; fiction, biographies, self-care manuals. He wonders when she has the time. Liz always seemed so busy. 

Just beside an extensive collection of Austen novels, Steve notices a photo in a silver frame. It is of two young men and women, all with their arms around each other and smiling wide. One couple Steve recognises as Roisin and Ted Hastings. Steve smirks to himself seeing his boss look so young. The other woman Steve assumes to be Liz’s mother, Julie - he can tell by the familiar way her eyes crinkle warmly as she smiles. That must make the man beside her Liz’s father, Patrick.

Steve turns away as he hears Liz approach from the hallway, now dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, just as he was. It was still much more casual than Steve had seen her before, but he quite liked seeing her so comfortable in her own space. It was refreshing.

“Let me just check it hasn’t burned yet, and then I will serve it up,” Liz smiles at him, making her way over to the hob again.

Steve sits back down in his seat at the table, watching as she spoons the risotto into two bowls. Placing some seasonings and cutlery on the table before bringing over the food too, Liz sits opposite him.

“It looks lovely,” Steve compliments, causing Liz to blush.

“Thank you, I just followed the recipe,” she admits.

There she goes again, Steve thinks, deflecting compliments. He hated it when she did that.

“So,” Liz swallows a mouthful of food and ignores the way her heart beats anxiously as she goes to ask, “How is Kate?”

Steve swallows too, sighing. Even though Liz knew from the woman’s visit that Denton had caught her out, that was not what she hoped to hear.

“She’s ok, but her cover is blown,” Steve says, discouraged, though curious as to why Liz does not seem surprised, “Denton called her to the repair garage. Took her around the back, punched her in the stomach and took her phone.”

“Shit,” Liz curses, stabbing her fork into her risotto as she worries for her friend.

“Luckily I was on pocket-dial,” Steve says, “Kate says I should thank you for that.”

“Yeah, well,” Liz huffs, “I was worried for her. We don’t yet know what that woman is capable of.”

Steve glances at her from across the table, noticing how Liz seems to get lost in her own head for a moment, “You ok?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, just worried for Kate that is all,” Liz lies, not wanting to tell him about Denton’s visit. He would only worry. And, knowing Steve, if he called her out for it, things could only be made worse for them all. Denton would have proof Liz was close to them.

“She really is alright,” Steve assures her, taking another bite of his food, “You know how Kate is. Just disappointed it fell through.”

Liz hums, pushing around some rice in her bowl.

Steve frowns, “Come on, something else is on your mind. What is it?”

He had seen her worry for Kate before, but she currently seemed so distracted.

Liz puts down her fork, rubbing her palms over her eyes like he knew she did when she was stressed. She looks at him, a hint of dread in her eyes. That worries him.

“Denton was here.”

“What?” he exclaims, also putting down his fork.

“About ten minutes or so before you got here,” Liz explains, unsure if she even wants to tell him, not knowing how he will react, “She knocked on my door, and started questioning me about my involvement with AC-12. Said she saw my number on Kate’s phone and some of our messages. They wouldn’t have said much, I know not to be personal when she is undercover. But I think Denton assumes I have been telling you whatever is said in my meetings with her.”

Steve sighs, sitting back frustratedly in his chair.

Liz winces as he does, continuing, “She threatened to make a complaint about me, possibly resulting in me being sued. At least, I think it was a threat? More of a torment, you know? A warning.”

Steve leans his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together in a fist, “You should have called me.”

“I knew you were on your way, anyway.”

Steve shakes his head, outraged at the nerve of Denton. Looking to the woman opposite him, he sees her give him a pleading look. He takes a breath and lowers his arms, in an attempt to calm down.

“Steve,” Liz says, the sound of her voice calling his name immediately puts his nerves at ease, “I am fine, it was just a shock. Look, we both know what Denton could be capable of. And I don’t just mean the ambush or her neighbour. That woman can be calculating and cruel.”

“She’s coming in for another interview tomorrow,” Steve says, wondering how he could use it to bring up her coming to Lizzie’s apartment and confront her about it.

“I know, she told me to be there,” Liz frowns, still unsure why, “I don’t know what she has planned, but it can’t be good.”

Steve frowns too, contemplatively, as he picks up his fork and takes another bite of his food.

“Just, be careful,” Liz pleads, taking another bite herself.

The pair eat in silence for a moment, both unsure where the conversation should go from here. Steve is still rather angry at Denton for trying to intimidate Liz, thinking of ways to punish her for it despite it having no impact on the actual case against her. Liz, already feeling the evening has been ruined by the disheartened tone, decides to bring up what has been on her mind.

“How are you holding up?” Liz asks, “Are you coping alright?”

Steve pauses eating, knowing she is referring to Georgia, “It is a shock. No one deserves that. But I didn’t know her, really.”

“Not what it looked like to me,” Liz comments, hoping Steve does not take it to be as bitter as it had come out. 

Steve takes a sip of his wine, “We kissed. I walked her home. I went back to mine.”

Something had stopped him, that night, when Georgia asked him to come inside. She was an attractive, young woman who was clearly interested. They had bantered well. Any other time, Steve would not have held back. But something wasn't right. He did not know what. 

Liz takes a sip of her wine too, hiding her surprise and also embarrassment of having brought it up. Perhaps she was still bothered by it, then. She had hoped this dinner would be the end of it.

“I shouldn’t have left you that night,” Steve says, sincerely, “I’m sorry.”

Liz shakes her head, though grateful for his admittance, “I am sorry too, I had no right to scold you like that. I am not your mother.”

“Thank god,” Steve teases with a grin. Liz laughs at that.

Steve raises his glass out to her, “To moving on.”

Liz smiles, raising her glass up to meet his, “To moving on.”

They both chug back some wine, finishing their glasses. With a giggle, Liz offers to refill his glass to which he thanks her.

Steve clears his throat after taking another gulp, glad they had settled it and were ready to put it past them. However, he was not  _ quite _ ready to move on. Not just yet.

“How have you dealt with grief?”

Liz startles at his question, putting the wine steadily back onto the table. There Steve Arnott goes again, asking about her. Wanting to get to know more. He was the only one, perhaps beside Kate, who had ever cared to ask. She knows what he is asking, having never properly inquired about her father’s death in the line of duty all those years ago, or her mother.

“My father, as you now know, served with Ted during the Troubles. I am sure Hastings has mentioned how difficult that was,” Liz starts to explain, Steve leaning forward to eagerly listen, “They were on duty together one night. A pipe bomb went off. Hastings was severely injured but got away. My dad was not so lucky. He was killed by the explosion. I was barely two years old.”

Steve watches as she takes a gulp of wine before continuing, “It was covered up, of course. The log book states the patrol was ‘lost’ and it was an accident. Ted always believed it was intentful. They were the only Catholics in the division, you see. They didn’t care about Catholic collateral.”

“So, you are Catholic?” Steve asks, hoping he was not being too inquisitive.

“No,” Liz shakes her head, tears beginning to prick her eyes, “I never understood faith. My mother, though, continued to pray for my father long after he died. Ted and Roisin were encouraging too, but I never saw the point. My father was a Catholic, and he was discriminated against, possibly even killed with the muder covered-up, because of it. I admire them, though. Despite everything, they continued to be true to themselves and celebrated their religion. I do understand why my mother did it. I suppose, in a way, it probably helped her to feel closer to my dad. Like I said, I was young, I didn’t know him. Always felt like, if I prayed, I wouldn't know who I was speaking to on the other side. And it doesn’t sit right with me that things are out of my control. Whatever happens to me in my life should be mine to dictate. They are my responsibility to respond to, why should I rely on anyone or anything else? I guess it comforts some people, though. My mother included.”

Liz takes a breath when she finishes, slightly embarrassed by her emotional rant. It’s just that nobody had ever asked her that before. It was something she thought about often, and it felt good to have someone like Steve to share that with. Like a weight was being lifted from her shoulders.

Steve scoots his chair around to sit at the side of the table next to her, “What happened to your mother?”

Liz, feeling somewhat liberated by opening up to him, continues, “We were close, as most widowed mothers and their children are. She was a very loving woman, and always wanted the best for me. That was especially difficult to provide without her husband around.She was the strongest woman I ever knew. I took her surname, hoping it would give me some of that Thronton strength. I don’t see it, myself, but Ted has often told me I have my mother’s mind and my father’s heart.”

“And hair,” Steve teases, having seen the photo of him on the shelf.

“An Irishman named Patrick O’Malley; are you really surprised that’s where the red comes from?” Liz smirks, Steve shaking his head with a smile.

Liz’s smile fades slightly as she continues to think of her mother, “As I got older, she seemed sometimes distant, though I understood the pressure on her and all the torment she had to go through because of my dad’s death and the cover-up. She was often happy, her smile would light up a room but… something was always missing. I could tell. At first I just assumed it was my father. But it was more than that, I could see it. She was missing justice.

I think that is why I wanted to start my network. I have seen first-hand how this line of work can impact lives. I want to offer people the support we were missing.

When I reached my late teens, mum’s distance started becoming more noticeable. She would repeat herself several times, unaware she had done so, and then it started to be basic maintenance things like forgetting to eat or clean. One time, she accidentally left the door open and our cat ran out. He was killed on the road. I loved that cat. I forgave her, she couldn’t help it.

Gradually, she shrivelled into herself. It was tough, difficult to watch. Not knowing what to do. Ted and Roisin helped where they could but we knew it was all getting too much for her. So many years of heartache. She died of a stroke when I was 19. She was only 41.”

Steve reaches out slowly, taking Lizzie’s hand in his. Liz only watches as he entwines their fingers together, giving them an encouraging squeeze. The sensation was overwhelming.

He was grateful she was opening up to him like this, knowing she had struggled to do so until now. Liz spent so long talking to others about their lives, their experiences, their troubles. It was relieving for him to hear her for once consider herself.

Steve is glad when she continues to speak, without the need for him to prompt her.

“Hastings was the reason we moved to England. When he got the job at Central Police, he offered us to come with him and Roisin, start a new life. ‘An escape’, he apparently called it when trying to convince my mum. He helped us find a flat together, often came over to check up on us, help me with homework and things like that. Roisin would often visit too, she and my mother both taught me how to sew and cook - those things every typical irish wife should know how to do,” Steve watches as a small, reminiscent smile grows on her face as she speaks, “When my mother passed, Ted helped me buy my own flat and put me into training with the force. I think Ted just wanted to keep an eye on me. My mother never wanted me to join. I think, after dad, she was always suspicious of it. Rightfully so. I just hope she can forgive me and is proud, wherever she is.”

“I thought you weren’t religious,” Steve gently teases, trying to lighten the mood.

Liz huffs in amusement, “It is a nice idea though. If it is real, I hope she found him. That they are together.”

Steve gives her hand a sympathetic squeeze as a few tears roll down the woman’s cheek. He is almost tempted to wipe them away himself, feeling as though he may have been the one to cause them by bringing it up, but she beats him to it.

“I never really knew my father,” Liz croaks, “But I like to imagine he was as kind and generous as Ted. Though, perhaps with a better sense of humour.”

Her and Steve share a laugh. He slips his hand out of hers, seeing her now relaxed slightly. He immediately regrets it, missing the contact. So does she.

“Why did you not tell me about him being your godfather?” Steve asks, still unsure if he is pushing it but wanting to know more about his friend. He knows he has asked her this before, but he couldn’t help feel, as with most things concerning Lizzie’s personal life, there was more to it.

Liz lets out a breath, reaching for her wine glass and taking a sip, “Other than accusations of favouritism, I think I embarrass him.”

Steve’s eyes widen, incredulously, “Why would you think that?”

“He was the one to put me into the force. He gave me a chance when it seemed I had nowhere to turn, after my mother. But I only lasted two months after training,” Liz snarls.

“Well, what happened?”

“A mission went wrong,” she says shortly, shifting uncomfortably in her chair, “I was advised to quit.”

Steve is silent, only taking in the information. He wonders what happened on that mission for that to have been the outcome, but he decided against pushing. She was already opening up to him so much, he did not want to jeopardise that.

“I let him down,” Liz holds back a sob, “I think he thought I would be capable of it, like my dad was. I proved him wrong. I think he only helps me now with the counselling out of pity.”

“Lizzie, we both know he isn’t that kind of man,” Steve insists, concerned that she would feel that way.

“No, you're right. He isn’t,” Liz agrees, reaching for the wine glass again, “Then maybe it is because  _ I  _ am embarrassed.”

“What reason could you possibly have-”

“I just couldn’t hack it. Kate went through the same training. She managed it. In fact, she is one of the best officers we have got-”

“Lizzie,” Steve says, loudly, as to cut her off. He couldn’t listen to it anymore, “You are not Kate. She may have the strength, physically, and determination. But  _ you _ have something just as valuable. You have emotional intelligence. And compassion. That is something many officers, and people generally, could do with more of.”

Liz stares at him, eyes red and bleary but wide in surprise.

Following her stunned silence, he continues, “You spend so long in other peoples’ heads, trying to sort them out and make them the best version of themselves, that you need to stop and realise your own worth.”

Steve swallows as he finishes, unsure if he has crossed a line. It was hard to tell what Lizzie was thinking, her face blank as she just looks at him. But he just couldn’t listen to her put herself down anymore. Not after the many times she helped raise him up.

Liz feels lightheaded. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the fact no one had ever made the effort to reassure her and get to know herself better as Steve just did. He was proving himself to be exactly the man she had hoped he would be when they first met; kind, understanding and supportive. She had opened up to him and he hadn’t used it against her. He now knew her, better than anyone. And it felt good.

“Thank you,” Liz smiles, wiping away her last tear and reaching for his hand, just as he had hers and giving it a slight squeeze.

Steve smiles back, returning the pressure. He was relieved she had received the compliment without, for once, feeling the need to deflect it.

The pair finish the last of their food in comfortable conversation. Finishing his last mouthful, Steve looks at his watch. It was late.They had been talking for hours.

“I should go,” Steve claims, looking at Lizzie regretfully, “We have Denton’s interview in the morning.”

“You’re right,” Liz groans, “Going to need to sleep off this wine. Don’t need two reasons for a headache tomorrow.”

The pair share a chuckle as they pick up their bowls and carry them to the sink. Liz thanks him as he places the glasses in there too.

“That really was delicious, thank you,” Steve smiles to her as they walk to the door.

“It was nothing, my pleasure,” Liz waves a dismissive hand before reluctantly reaching for the door, “Thank  _ you _ for… uh, all of that.”

Steve shakes his head, grinning as he steps out of her apartment and turns back to look at her, “Thank  _ you  _ for finally talking about yourself instead of listening to me blab on.”

Liz laughs, “Are we just going to stand here thanking each other all night?”

“Well, there is a lot to be thankful for.”

Liz’s throat dries at the sincerity in his voice, unsure how to respond.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he waves as he turns onto the street.

“Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, Lizzie.”

Liz watches him walk away for a while before closing the door, heart swelling as she recalls all he had said to her that night. Steve smiles to himself as he walks, thinking how thankful he was he could slightly return Liz the favour of being there for her, just as she had been for him all those times before.

Lindsay Denton smirks, having watched their exchange from the shadows.  _ Tomorrow will be fun. _


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day!! I do treat you!
> 
> make sure to leave kudos and comments, it makes me SO happy!

Lindsay Denton's arrival at AC-12 for her interview the next day was nothing but awkward. Liz greeted her with a tight-lipped smile, too uncomfortable to even offer niceties as she led her and Sam Royal, her representative, to the interview room.

Denton gave each of the AC-12 officers a glare as she entered the room, removing her jacket and taking a seat, this time easier without her neck brace. Steve held her glare for a moment, still furious she had the nerve to show up at Lizzie's apartment the night before and threaten her with a complaint, before sitting down himself next to Hastings with Kate on the man's other side.

Lizzie sends a short smile to Kate, having not seen her friend since her cover was blown and she was attacked by the interviewee. Kate sends her a nod back, a reassurance she was alright. Liz notes the eagerness in hers and Steve's eyes to begin the interview and lay into Denton for what she had done.

Hastings presses the recording button on the audio recorder, the long beep signalling the beginning of Denton's interrogation.

"AC-12 interview with DI Denton, in the presence of DI Royal by Superintendent Hastings, DS Arnott and DC Fleming," Hastings announces, "Also present is DI Denton's counsellor, Elizabeth Thornton, at the interviewee's request."

Hastings does not hesitate to begin questioning the woman, firecely, "DI Denton, did you assault DC Fleming?"

"Sorry, sir, you'll have to help me," Liz feigns confusion, "Who's DC Fleming?"

LIz suppresses an eye roll at her pettiness, watching as Kate huffs out a frustrated breath.

"For the purposes of the tape, I'm indicating DC Fleming," Hastings says with an exaggerated point in his colleague's direction.

"I'm confused, sir," Denton continues to taunt, "That's DC Foster."

Steve quirks an irritated brow as Kate glares at the woman. Liz almost laughs at the difference between the seemingly traumatised and timid Denton in the first interview compared to the mocking tone she used now. It was clear Denton no longer wanted Liz there to hold her hand, to assist in the image of her as a grieving, guilt-ridden victim. So why did she ask for her to be here?

"The officer known to you as Foster," Hastings sighs, "did you assault her, yes or no?"

"No," Denton claims.

"You didn't strike her?"

Denton looks to Kate with dark eyes as she speaks with a patronising tone, "There was an altercation that got a little bit physical. For the tape, I note that DC Foster, sorry, _Fleming_ , shows no significant injuries."

"You in the habit of assaulting people, DI Denton?" Hastings says, his voice stern. He refused to play whatever game the woman in front of him believed she was winning.

"No."

"Have you ever assaulted anyone?"

"No."

"Did you assault Lorna Barrett, your next-door neighbour?"

"No," Denton answers again, bored.

"She gave a statement alleging you did," Steve picks up a document from the table, "I'll read from it. 'Lindsay Denton struck me on the side of the head with a bottle and then she beat my head against the floor repeatedly.'"

"Lorna Barrett's an unreliable witness," Denton challenges, "She's making a vexatious complaint."

"I interviewed Lorna Barrett," Steve bites back, "She provided a coherent account of the assault, had injuries consistent with her version of events and accurately described you as the assailant."

Liz notices Denton shift slightly in her seat, "There's a witness to my relationship with Ms. Barrett. She's in this room right now."

All eyes turn to Kate as Denton continues, "Should I call you Foster or Fleming?"

"Fleming," Kate says through grit teeth. Liz can see how much she is fighting to hold in her disdain for the woman. They all were.

"Ms. Barrett played loud music late at night, can you confirm that?"

"Yes."

"And did I respond in a potential aggressive fashion to Ms. Barrett's antisocial behaviour?"

"No," Kate responds, regretfully.

"Ms. Barrett's allegations reflect a history of antisocial misconduct," Denton explains, turning back to challenge Steve, "who _you_ might have been taken in by DS Arnott, though she doesn't appear to be your type."

Liz's eyes snap to Steve's, who frowns confusedly at Denton. He looks around the room, clearly not knowing what she is referring to, waiting for her to explain herself. Liz herself is unsure, but her heart sinks slightly. What did Denton mean?

Oh no. Did she see Steve enter or leave her apartment last night? She was asking her about Steve, trying to learn how close they were. Though Liz had assumed she meant in a professional capacity, that Denton thought they were working together against her. Has she the wrong idea about them, and will try to use it against them somehow?

Denton does not speak, just continues to glare at Steve.

Hastings clears his throat, breaking the awkward silence, "I think we should revisit the events of 5th September."

Royal speaks up now, "DI Denton has already provided a comprehensive statement and interview in this regard."

"Yes, as a witness. These matters will now be addressed under the terms of a Regulation 15 Notice you've just been served," Hastings states, cooly, "DS Arnott?"

Steve leans forward with another document, responding to his cue, "You've seen this illustration before, document 5 in your folders."

Liz watches as he, as in the first interview, turns on the screen behind him. It was the annotated map from before.

"It shows the location of the safe house, 12 St James's Close, the route taken by the convoy," Steve lists, indicating to each, "the location of the ambush which led to the deaths of DS Akers, Sergeant Wallis and PC Butler. It also shows the location of 4th Street Station which DI Denton has claimed was the intended destination that night."

"DI Denton," Hastings addresses her, "this is now your opportunity to amend or clarify your previous statement.

Denton is quite a moment before leaning over to whisper to her representative.

Royal nods at her before looking Hastings in the eye, "DI Denton has nothing to add."

"There is one more specific detail we would like to discuss in more depth with you, and that is the route," Hastings indicates for them all to look at the screen again.

"This is an excerpt from the first interview with DI Denton," Steve explains, "For the tape, a transcript will appear on screen."

Steve presses a button on the remote, an audio recording from the previous interview beginning to play. On it, Steve could be heard questioning Denton about the decision to take the longer route off the A-roads. Denton explained she knew there were roadworks, to which Steve challenges they had been removed the day before. The audio ends. Denton sits in silence, looking down at the table with an unreadable expression.

"DI Denton's service vehicle is fitted with the Type 60 Travel System," Kate says, firm, "I'm familiar with this system and so is DI Denton. I have been a passenger in said vehicle and observed DI Denton operate this system faultlessly. The TS-60 provides instantaneous traffic and roadworks information relating to the chosen route. The service vehicle driven by DI Denton on the night of the ambush was also fitted with the TS-60. This system was in operation on the night of September 5th and would have advised DI Denton there were no longer roadworks on Crown Avenue."

Denton remains passive.

Hastings leans forward, almost menacingly, "You drove them straight into the ambush didn't you?"

The woman's gaze moves from the table to his, still blank.

"It was no accident, was it?" Hastings claims.

Denton finally speaks, "I genuinely believed there were roadworks."

Liz deflates slightly, ensuring her reaction was not visible. She really hoped they had her. Not yet.

"In the stress of the situation," Denton explains, calmly, "I didn't even look at the information on the sat nav. I strenuously deny any involvement in setting up the ambush."

"Three of your own," Hastings scorns, "in the morgue because of you, DI Denton!"

LIndsay is visibly disturbed by this, once again scratching her head as she had done when the blame was put on her in the first interview.

"Make that four," Steve growls.

"Yes," Hastings agrees, " DC Georgia Trotman was killed trying to protect the witness who is the target of that ambush."

Lizzie looks down herself, then, fiddling with her fingers. She still felt heavily guilty herself for holding any upset against the woman after what happened between her and Steve.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lindsay take a few deep breaths, clearly allowing the accusation to affect her. The woman did not make sense. One moment she was acting cold and untouchable, the next she was panicking.

"DI Denton has absolutely no connection to the tragic death of DC Trotman," Royal asserts.

"You will kindly keep your counsel until we are said and done," Hastings berates, lowly. Liz almost shivers at his punishing tone.

Steve speaks next, seeing Denton begin to fold and not wanting to ease the bombardment, "The witness survived the ambush and was receiving treatment when there was a second, successful, attempt on his life."

"DI Denton was observed making a phone call from a public telephone box approximately fifteen minutes prior to the witness' death," Kate states, having been the one to observe it.

"Why did you use a phone box?" Hastings asks.

"I didn't want the call appearing in my phone history," Denton responds.

"Yes, we get that, DI Denton. But why didn't you?"

"It was an impulse, I knew it was inadvisable," Denton's tone begins to freeze over again.

"Said call was identified with the number of the hospital switchboard," Steve says, attempting to thaw it, "It was put through to the intensive care unit where the witness was being treated. The member of staff who took the call has provided a statement that the female caller asked for Staff Nurse Tindall by name, Staff Nurse Tindall being the intensive care nurse blackmailed into furnishing access to the witness."

"Who made that call, DI Denton?" Hastings folds his arms.

"Not me."

"I saw you make that call," Kate frowns.

"I'm not denying making a call," Denton glares at her, "The witness was the only person who could verify that I had nothing to do with setting up the ambush. I'd heard rumours that he was about to regain consciousness and I wanted to find out if they were true."

"How come you knew the name of the nurse, the very same nurse who was involved in killing him?" Hastings leans forward, skeptical.

"I didn't," Denton shrugs, "I hung up when they put me through. I realised it was a stupid thing to do. I wasn't thinking."

Liz sees Steve notably frustrated by her response on the other side of the table, rubbing a hand over his mouth and leaning back in his chair.

"You expect us to believe that?" Hastings raises a brow.

Denton glares at the older man, her face going colder, if possible, "If I had conspired in the murder, why on earth would I have made a call at that exact time? It would only incriminate me."

"It does," Kate scrunches her nose, patronisingly, "Funny that."

Liz would have laughed at her friend's wit if it weren't for the incredibly tense and professional environment. Though, she had to admit, Denton did make a fair point. While Liz learnt more by the day how intimidating and calculating the woman could be, Lindsay was more clever than to give them such obvious evidence. Were it possible someone was setting her up?

Kate lifts a document, showing an illustration of a suspect's face, "I'm sure you have seen this E-Fit before. Who is that man?"

Denton studies the image for a moment, "I've never seen him before in my life."

"He was at the hospital about to kill the witness and DC Trotman, at exactly the same time you made your phone call," Kate explains.

Liz looks at the picture again, her gut feeling uneasy as she thinks of that man, whoever he was pushing Georgia from the window.

Denton fixes Kate with a dark glare before turning to Steve, "DS Arnott, what's your theory on why I'd make that call?"

Steve refuses to make it clear he is surprised by her move to ask him that question, though everyone else in the room watches, stunned.

"It was a signal," Steve nods, "Or you got cold feet… tried to call off the murder."

Denton shakes her head, sighing as if frustrated, "I am as aware as you are that it is impossible to trace a call within an internal telephone network. All you can do is identify the number dialled from the call box as being that of the hospital switchboard. And I admit to that part."

Liz sees the furious look in both Steve and Kate's eyes as Denton attempts to school them.

"After that," Denton continues, looking each of them in the eye as she does, "all you have is the vague evidence from somebody who can't be sure who called, what they said or why. I deny that it was me who asked to speak to the nurse."

A silence floods the room. Again, Liz cannot help but agree with the woman that AC-12's evidence just was not specifically damning enough. They would have to look harder, despite being so sure of her guilt, for something to condemn her. From what Liz could see, Denton had a good rebuttal for every point they had raised. Whether they were intricately planned and rehearsed, Liz was still unsure. But they needed more than what they had to take Denton down.

"That your final answer?" Hastings taunts.

Denton nods, defiantly.

Hastings shakes his head, disappointedly, "DC Fleming?"

Kate looks down to her folder and sighs, "DI Denton text-messaged me to attend a meeting at the Canalside Industrial Estate, purporting to be in connection with a breakthrough in a missing persons enquiry. The specific location given by DI Denton was a unit formerly belonging to A&B Carriage Repairs."

"This disused unit was a front for individuals connected with the 5th of September ambush," Steve claims.

Hastings leans his folded arms on the table, "What was your connection, DI Denton?"

"There's no connection to me," Denton states, assured, "I went there following a lead on my investigation into the disappearance of a 15-year-old girl. The fact that it'd gone out of business and was already connected to an ongoing investigation only added to my suspicions."

"Yes, but instead of following your suspicions, you assault DC Fleming," Hastings says with a slight gesture to Kate.

"I was emotional, sir," Denton rubs her eye with her hand. Kate scoffs.

"Why?"

"I imagined what it must've been like for that girl if she'd been abducted to that place," Denton sighs, "I was frustrated with the case and I was angry with DC Fleming's lies."

The two women stare at each other, fiercely.

"Lies, yes," Hastings mocks, "you don't like being lied to, do you, DI Denton?"

It is then that Denton turns to Liz, fixing her with a signature blank stare. Liz does her best to ignore it, continuing to look at Steve who frowns protectively at the interaction. She knows Denton is trying to intimidate her again, as she had done last night, warning her against lying or breaching confidentiality. Liz grips the edge of her seat slightly as she impatiently waits for someone to speak.

"Fact of the matter is," Hastings' voice rumbles as he speaks, regaining Denton's attention, "neither do we. DI Denton, I'm arresting you for conspiracy to murder a protected witness-"

"State the grounds," Lindsay demands before he gets the chance to finish.

Hastings ignores her, "You do not have to say anything-"

"Under Code G of the Police and Criminal Evidence Act, state the grounds, "Denton demands, louder this time, "Why are you arresting me?"

Hastings sighs but does so, certain of himself, "As the arresting officer, I submit; 1. You're the sole survivor of an ambush you had the means of setting up. 2. You made a phone call and freely admit that you made a phone call to the hospital after which two people were murdered. Regarding the Police and Criminal Evidence Act, I note Subsection 5 (c)(i), (c)(ii), (e) and (f). And I'm sure you're very familiar with those terms."

Liz looks at Denton, seeing the disdain on the woman's face as her own intelligence is used against her. Hastings clearly has the upper-hand. So much so, Denton's rather eager representative had remained entirely silent as the Superintendent spoke.

"Lindsay Denton, you do not have to say anything, however, you may harm your defence if you fail to mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be used in evidence."

A short, satisfied silence fills the room as the AC-12 officers begin to pack away their files. Liz herself lets out a breath of relief, quiet enough Lindsay cannot hear it, though cannot ignore the way her gut twists in doubt.

"I would like to say something," Denton suddenly claims, halting the movement in the room, "Keep the tape running."

The officers look between each other before re-taking their seats, curious as to what the woman has to say.

Liz's grip returns on the side of her chair. She doesn't trust the menacing gleam in the woman's eye. Is this what she has planned?

Denton reaches down to her bag, pulling out some folders, "Superintendent Hastings. I have in my possession certain financial records pertaining to you."

She hands one of the folders over to the older man, him taking it suspiciously. Liz watches as her godfather opens it, his face paling slightly, "Where the hell did you get these?"

"The document requests were signed off by an officer of Chief Superintendent rank," Denton says, calmly, "Anything I say may be used in evidence. That works both ways, sir."

Hastings goes to turn off the recorder, refusing to reach anyone's eye.

Royal calls out before he has the chance, "Sir, DI Denton has asked the tape be left running. She's got a right to be heard."

Hastings sits back in his seat, staring fixated on the file in his hands.

Denton continues, "Without going into details the records show Superintendent Hastings is in considerable financial difficulties."

Liz sits up straighter, squaring her shoulders. She sends a glare at the woman beside her. How dare she bring that up? What did that have to do with anything?

Hastings rubs his forehead with a shaky hand, "These have absolutely no relevance to the case against you, DI Denton."

"I'm reading a transcript from our first interview," Denton says as she pulls out a document, "'Superintendent Hastings: Our strongest supposition is that criminal interests attempted to assassinate the witness to prevent him from testifying. Those interests would pay a pretty penny for an inside man or woman. Any office rin the kind of financial mess you're in, DI Denton, is honour bound to declare it, on account of vulnerability to bribery.' Have you declared _your_ situation, sir?"

LIz's stomach sinks as she watches Hastings lean back in his chair, defeatedly. She had told him to declare it months ago when he had first told her things were rough with him and Roisin. The last thing he needed was for him to get accused of falsifying statements and possibly lose his position. But he was a proud man, of course he didn't listen. Typical Irish stubborness.

"Sir?" Denton prompts, patronisingly as she waits for an answer.

"No," Hastings admits, quietly, sending a sorrowful glance to Liz.

She looks away, watching as Denton arranges some other documents, pulling out an envelope. The woman holds it out for Steve.

"DS Arnott," Denton begins as he takes the documents, "I'd like you to view these photographs."

Liz sees Steve's face fall, paling similarly to Hastings, as he pulls out the images from the envelope. As the room sits silent, Steve looks through the collection. His eyes flicker to Liz's, though he soon turns to glare at Denton before she has the chance to decipher the sorrowful glint she saw.

"Do you recognise the location?" Denton asks.

"Yes."

"This is the home, under protective custody, of Staff Nurse Claire Tindall."

Steve sighs, his cheeks begin to redden. Out of embarrassment or frustration, Liz found it hard to tell.

"You interviewed her in connection with events at the hospital," Denton explains, the woman beside her still unsure what the images insinuate, only able to see the back of them, "There are more images. Please, do share them around."

Kate leans over Hastings to take the photos from Steve as he asks, "Where did you get these?"

Liz sees Kate suppress a curse as she studies the images, making her throat dry, anxiously.

"For the tape, the images show DS Arnott returning to Staff Nurse Tindall's home. And he's later photographed in an upstairs bedroom with her."

LIz's eyes widen as her stomach jolts, reaching rather too eagerly at Kate for the photos. She knows what Denton is now suggesting, hoping the images will prove her wrong. Kate winces as she gives them over, unsettled by the blankness of Liz's face when she studies them. Steve also allows himself a glance at Lizzie as she looks at the images of himself and the nurse. He tries to catch her eye. She refuses to look at him. He feels sick.

"What was the purpose of your return visit?" Denton asks, tauntingly.

Steve fails to answer, unsure if he were to open his mouth anything but bile would come out.

"I am sure you took notes of the conversation," Denton mocks further, "May we hear them?"

Liz keeps her gaze on the table in front of her, sliding the photos across the table rather aggressively back to Denton.

She scolds herself for thinking Denton was referring to her earlier when mentioning Steve's type. How embarrassing. That was not the case at all.

She had hoped Lindsay would put the photos away, having embarrassed Steve enough. Instead, the woman beside her fixes her with a pointed glare, placing the photos out onto the table in full-display, facing the right way to Liz, before turning back to Steve.

"No notes, then?"

Steve remains silent, keeping his worried gaze on Lizzie. He just wanted her to look at him. To reassure him with just a look, as she always did. She didn't.

Denton sighs, "I hope you're aware - or perhaps you're not, but hope that Superintendent Hastings is - that inappropriate relations with a witness is a breach of the England and Wales Police Conduct Regulations 2008."

"I know the Regs," Steve spits, snapping his now furious gaze back at Denton.

The woman does not seem fazed, "Were you coaching Staff Nurse Tindall to corroborate the allegations against me regarding the call to the hospital?"

"I don't have to."

"No?" Denton raises her eyebrows, mockingly, "I would say you're in desperate need of someone being able to identify me as the caller. Was Staff Nurse Tindall able to do that for you?"

Steve is silent.

"For the tape, DS Arnott's not forthcoming."

Steve shifts in his chair, looking to his colleagues for help. Hastings is watching Denton carefully, his hand still firmly keeping his own file closed on the table. Kate's eye is on Liz, who remains quiet and looking away.

"No," he sighs.

"No, she wasn't able?

Steve hesitates, grinding his jaw, "She wasn't able."

"Was she able to state any relationship with me?"

"No."

"We've established that you know the witness better than most. Is she likely to lie?"

"No."

"If I was connected, she'd say, wouldn't she?"

"Yes."

"DS Arnott," Denton continues, looking down at some more documents, "You know a suspect's three incriminating criteria…"

Steve huffs at the prompt, "Motive, opportunity, means."

"Motive: I had none. Why on earth would I want to kill fellow officers?" Denton lists, now addressing all the officers in the room, "Opportunity: I had none. I only found out about the witness in a phone call one hour before the ambush. Means: I had none. I've never worked in Serious Crime. I don't have the criminal connections to be able to conspire in an ambush."

The three officers sit in silence, contemplating all she had said. Liz knew Denton was right. Their case just wasn't there, as much as they had wanted to believe it. Even if Denton was guilty, she was just too clever. They had all played right into her hands, giving Denton lethal ammo against them. Liz failed, in that moment, as her eye was once again brought to the pictures of Steve and the nurse on the table, to have any sympathy. She warned them. They didn't listen.

"DC Fleming," Denton says, pulling something from her bag and holding it up, "Is this your mobile phone?"

"Yes," Kate quietly confesses, her attention no longer concernedly on her timid friend.

"Please, speak up for the tape."

"Yes."

"I came into possession of this phone during our altercation at the Canalside Industrial Estate, is that correct?"

"Yeah," Kate leans forward, looking Lindsay coldly in the eye, "You stole it from me."

"Your call history makes for very interesting reading," Denton taunts, repressing a smirk.

Liz looks away from the photos to Kate, then, the way her friend is biting the inside of her mouth worrying her. Kate only did that when she was extremely stressed.

"Significant people at significant times," Denton says, vaguely, as if threatening Kate with the truth.

What could she have against her? Liz knew there was some correspondence between herself and Kate, as Denton made clear she knew the other night. And likely there were messages from Steve. Kate had always excelled at undercover work, having done since their training. She knew how to hide emotions. So what could Denton know that has Kate looking as visibly shaken as she did?

Denton exaggeratedly puts the phone down in front of her, "Stealing is against the law. _My bad_."

Liz is grateful she is not on the other end of the deathly glare Denton is receiving from the DC.

"Let's save the rest of this conversation for another time, does that suit you, _Kate_?"

"Interview terminated," Hastings suddenly exclaims, reaching for the recorder and stopping the tape, "Show's over."

Liz felt herself breathe for the first time, though shakily. She could also feel Steve looking at her from across the room, but refused to look back. She was frustrated he had been such a fool. Ever since the beginning, she had told him to watch his back with Denton and he had given her exactly what she wanted. All because he couldn't keep it in his pants. It seemed clear to her now Steve was rather a renegade when it came to women. Georgia was not long dead and he could not even help himself.

"Steve, you hold her here," Hastings orders, Liz grateful that meant she would not have to converse with him when they left the room. She didn't want to hear it. Liz wouldn't know what to say, even if she did hear him out.

"Kate, you organise the custody," Hastings also commands, leading the other woman out of the room.

"The best I can do for you now, Lindsay," Royal says, "is find you a good solicitor."

Denton remains staring ahead, blank.

The representative stands up and leaves, prompting Liz to do the same. As she stands from her chair, reaching for her bag, she can see Steve in the corner of her eye getting up himself. Rushing to gather her things and get to the door before he catches her, she hears him say her name.

Turning to him, one hand on the door and a brow raised, she sees a pleading look in his eyes. However, he is evidently failing to find something to say.

Liz looks away from him to the back of Denton's head before walking out of the room. She could feel his gaze on her as she walked away, though refused to turn back.

Perhaps she was being harsh. Besides, as with Georgia, Steve was a grown man and could be with whatever woman he wanted however he wanted. It made no difference to her. None at all.

But with a _witness_? He had been a fool. Was he really that desperate to take that risk? Not just a risk to himself and his career but the reputation of the entire branch.

Once again, he had only thought about himself.

She really thought they had opened up to one another last night. That he respected her. Cared about her. All the things he said mattered to her.

But does he do that with all the women he is with? Make them feel like they are worth something. They are special. Not that she thought Steve was flirting with her. No, it had definitely been more sincere than that. Many men had approached her before, unsuccessfully trying to get their way into her bed by pretending to care. She would know if he was doing the same. But the idea he was like that with other women, and so many of them, just... infuriated her. It cheapens it, she supposes. And that hurts.

There goes that jealousy. Again.

Liz can't help herself but look back at the glass windows of the interview room when she reaches her office. Maybe, if he looked pitiful enough she would end up offering to help - as she always did, unable to resist. But Steve is no longer watching her, instead sat back in his seat, head in his hands.

It is Lindsay Denton that is looking at her. Turned in her chair, fixing Liz with a cold glare. Though the smallest hint of a satisfied smirk ghosts her lips. The two women stare at each other for a moment. Liz had let Lindsay Denton intimidate her once before, she refused to back down now. Denton slowly turns back to face ahead, the smirk still there.

Is this what she wanted? Is that how she chose to warn her? Embarrassing her friends to punish her for association? Admittedly, that was the best way to do it.

There was something about the way Denton had acted towards her when she brought out the nurse photos, that particularly bothered her. Denton had laid out the photos facing _Liz_ , watching her with a pointed look as she did so, as if trying to gouge _her_ reaction. Had that been why she wanted Liz there? To see how she reacted to learning about Steve and the nurse? Was that her way of disciplining Liz?

"Liz," Kate calls, catching her attention before she can read more into it.

Liz puts down her bag and walks over to the woman where she stands by her desk.

"Are you alright?" Liz asks, thinking of how flustered Kate had been when Denton was talking about her phone.

"Uh, yeah," Kate brushes her off, not wanting to talk about it at fear of Liz finding out what Denton was referring to - or who, "Are you?"

Kate had seen the way Liz reacted to Steve and the nurse. The disappointment in her eyes as she studied the photographs had been hard for Kate to see, not being able to say anything. Liz cared for Steve, very much. That had become more and more clear since they met. Kate had even thought there was something more developing between them. She assumed that was why Steve's antics had bothered Liz so much. Sure, Kate was frustrated with the man for doing something so outrageously stupid and unprofessional. But not as much as Liz had visibly been. But who was she to comment on relationships?

Liz just nods, not really sure what to say. She was not necessarily targeted by Denton in the interview room, but seeing her friends in such distress - and learning that Steve (and Hastings) hadn't listened to her warnings about Denton - did leave her quite shaken. That cruel last look from the woman did nothing to help relieve her nerves.

"I just need to make a call," Kate says, holding her recently returned mobile to her ear and placing a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder as the receiver picks up, "AC-12 are bringing in an officer. She works at 4th Street Station so ideally somewhere she is not known. We'll fax over the paperwork for charging. Thanks."

As Kate ends the call, the two women turn at the sound of the elevator opening. Two men in motorcycle helmets walk in, carrying boxes of files.

Hastings comes out of his office, determinedly calling out to the room, "They've handed over the Witness Protection files. Let's get cracking."

Liz follows the crowd and takes a few files. She holds them up as she passes Ted, unsure if she should be involved as she was not an investigator, "May I?"

"You're more than welcome," he says, knowing they need the help, walking over to some files himself.

Liz sits down beside Kate at her friend's desk and the two of them begin to sort through the available information. She was not sure what to look for at first, but Kate explained they were looking for any information, hopefully a name, of the protected witness who had been murdered at the hospital. Looking up to see Steve leave the interview room to assist researching, she catches eyes with Denton.

The woman looks furious, in that cold way she had. Liz assumed it was about her joining in the investigation, which Denton had already accused she was a part of. Sitting amognst the AC-12 officers, examining confidential documents, must look rather compromising. Liz didn't care anymore. The woman can glare and threaten all she likes. This information would be vital to their case. It was almost personal now.

"I want this place on lockdown," Hastings commands, "Not one piece of paper shall leave this building without my approval in triplicate. Thank you."

Liz sees from the corner of her eye as she looks through a file, Steve telling a police officer to watch Denton for him. He walks over to herself and Kate, Liz making a point of fixating on the information before her. He reaches for a document in front of her, Liz knowing he was purposely putting his arm across her so she would look up at him. She didn't.

Hastings joined them soon after, watching as the rest of the office bustle with a new, revitalised energy.

A few minutes later, a file was passed into the older man's hand by one of the officers, "Good man."

The three in front of him turn, eager. Hastings opens the file, his face falling slightly, "Mother of God."

Kate joins Steve standing, Liz anxiously frozen in her seat.

Hastings fixes both AC-12 officers with a stern look, turning the file to them so they could see, "The wee gobshite this was all about."

Christ," Kate curses as she looks at the file.

Liz, unable to resist finding out what had them so worried, moves to stand beside Steve. Looking slightly over his shoulder, she catches the image and name.

No wonder they were so shocked.

What did this mean?

Liz shares a glance with Steve, her anger at him forgotten for a moment as it was replaced with dread. This was so much bigger than momentary jealousy.

Steve turns back to look at Denton through the glass window, where she sat watching them inquisitively.

"We need to start over," Steve states, turning back to the other three.

Liz watches as he storms away to the whiteboard.

Kate looks at her then with a frustrated sigh before going to her own desk.

"Call your wives, you husbands, boyfriends, girlfriends," Hastings shouts to the rest of the room, "No one is leaving the premises until we have sifted through every single piece of information."

Liz follows after Kate, wanting to help. She would feel useless just sitting in her office and terrible if she left now.

She cannot resist glancing over her shoulder at Steve. He is looking at a photo of Georgia that had been pinned to the board, and her neat handwriting with various details of the case scattered across the surface. Picking up an eraser, he wipes it all away, throwing the DC's photo in the bin. No matter how angry she may be with him, her heart breaks for the man.

They thought they knew what it was all for, why Georgia had died. But now, after this new information, it seemed all was unclear. They didn't know a thing. She could only imagine what Steve, and the others, were going through.

As she stares at the words on the page before her, Liz thinks of Lindsay. She had her doubts about the woman being involved in the ambush before, but trusted her friends' judgements. The evidence they had seemed, to her anyway, rather shaky before. But now? Did they have anything at all? Can they really prosecute her, knowing now there is so much more to this than they had originally thought?

Looking up from her file a few moments later, she watches as Steve pulls Denton away and out of the office. One of her hands is cuffed to his. As she passes the desks, Denton fixes Liz with that signature glare, a hint of blame in her eyes as she is lead away. Liz does not relent until the woman is out of sight, then returns to the documents in her hand.

Looking beyond Kate to the Witness Identification Profile that lay open, Liz lets out a heavy breath as she reads the name a few times over, as if having to make sure it is real.

_Alias: Alexander Campbell_

_Full name: John Thomas 'Tommy' Hunter_


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyy another chapter for you! this didn't end up how I planned in some ways but I actually really like the result! thank you to everyone who has read and commented so far, I really do love hearing from you! it is so encouraging, especially in such a small, dry fandom! a certain someone if finally back in the story and more frequently, and I have been so excited to write them since I thought of this idea! enjoy!

"Hey," Liz greets as she passes Kate's desk where she sits with Steve.

"Morning, Liz!"

"Morning , Lizzie," Steve says, though sounding slightly unsure.

Liz makes a point of sending him a warm smile, to assure him that things are fine between them and should continue as normal. Since Denton's interview, learning about Steve's antics and then the revelation about Tommy Hunter being the Protected Witness, Liz had decided to harbour no bad feelings against the man. He had been an idiot, yes. A part of her was still hurt, perhaps a little more reluctant to open up to him any more than she had done. But there was so much more to concern themselves with than her jealousy over him giving attention, though not even of the same kind, to other women.

"Have any appointments today?" Steve asks, much more relaxed having seen her smile.

"None today. Just came in to do some general admin and give Hastings these," she pulls out some folders from her bag.

"What are they?" Kate asks.

"All my files on Denton," Liz explains, "Appointment notes, profiles, that sort of thing."

"Isn't that a breach? Giving them to Hastings?" Steve asks, concerned, remembering how Denton had threatened her.

"Well, now that her bail has been denied and she is sitting in a prison cell, she is no longer my responsibility," Liz sighs, "Can't say I am not relieved."

Kate nods, agreeing. She slept a little better at night, knowing that woman was locked up. Though, she had to admit, the new revelations did cast her some doubt.

"Do you know where I can find Hastings?" Liz asks, looking around. His office looked empty.

"He's in there," Kate gestures, looking over at the closed meeting room door, "Might want to come back later. Boss is busy."

"Oh, really?" Liz hadn't known Ted had any scheduled meetings. He would often tell her if he did, offering for her to visit any other time, "Who's in there?"

She raises a brow as Kate and Steve look at each other, irritatedly.

"Dot," Steve says, with a slight roll of his eyes.

"Matthew Cottan?" Liz asks, "What is he doing here?"

"Apparently as our investigation has expanded into Witness Protection, he gets to stick his nose in," Kate snarls, "Deputy Chief Constable ordered Hastings to call in a specialist from AC-9. He is the best they could do."

"Wasn't AC-9 preventing you from accessing the files? Didn't they deny all your requests throughout your inquiry?"

"Hastings argues they didn't make the call, that Dot certainly didn't," Steve explains with the same disdain as Kate, "Said something about us 'playing nice'."

Liz lets out a short chuckle at how characteristic that was of the older man, before asking, "I didn't know he was assigned to AC-9."

"Well, he was and here he is," Kate sighs, folding her arms, "We have a briefing led by him once they are done."

"That will be fun for you, I am sure," Liz grins as the two officers groan.

Just then, the door to the meeting room opens, Hastings appearing, "Alright, come on in."

Kate and Steve stand, gathering their notepads for the briefing before heading over to the room.

Liz follows after Kate, Steve having gone to his desk, and stops in the doorway, smiling at Ted as he greets her.

"I have these for you," she says, holding out the files which he takes.

"Thanks, Beth," Hastings says, tucking them under his arm and heading into the room.

"No problem," she mutters. As she turns to walk away to her office, not being part of the investigation team, Steve catches her arm as he passes.

"Lizzie," Steve begins, licking his lip awkwardly, "I just wanted to say, about what Denton said-"

"Steve, please," Liz says, placing her hand on his shoulder assuringly, "it's not my business. You have nothing to apologise for."

Liz genuinely believed that now, having convinced herself of it since.

Steve smiles, relieved, "Well, are you free for a drink later?"

"I should have my emails cleared by 16.00. I can meet you at the pub around the corner," Liz offers, seeing Steve nod, "You should ask Kate to come."

Steve's smile fades a bit. He had hoped it would just be the two of them, giving him a chance to apologise to Lizzie, properly. Perhaps, despite her insistence they were fine, Lizzie was still somewhat upset with him, somehow. He wanted to explain himself, not that he knew what to say or why he even felt the need to say whatever he would say to her.

"Sure," Steve says, quietly, "See you then."

"Play nice" Liz teases, repeating Hastings' words, as he dejectedly turns for the meeting room.

With a small, polite smile to Cottan, who seemed to have watched their exchange through the open door, Liz heads for her office.

* * *

"Where's Kate?"

Steve feels disheartened that is the first thing Lizzie says to him as they meet later in the pub.

"Uh, she said she had something to sort out this evening," he explains, giving her the vague excuse Kate had given him.

Steve orders a beer, seeing that is what Lizzie has started drinking and takes a gulp as it is placed in front of him.

Liz frowns, leaning her arms on the table. Kate had been much more distant during this case. Of course, for some of it she was undercover. But, even from the beginning and her request to be removed, something did not feel right. Liz believed she had a pretty solid theory as to what it was - or who, recalling Richard Akers' behaviour at the funeral and Denton's taunts about her phone history. She just hoped she was wrong, or at least that Kate would talk to her about it one day. Then again, maybe she was reading into things too much, as she always did.

Liz looks to the man beside her, wanting to know his opinion, "Have you felt Kate has been… reserved lately? More than usual?"

Steve thinks for a moment. Now that Liz mentions it, he couldn't think of the last time the two of them had shared a drink together after work. Or even spoken outside the office. It must have been months.

"Maybe she is still embarrassed that Denton blew her cover?" he offers, "Or maybe after what was said in the interview?"

LIz goes quiet, both contemplating Kate's behaviour and not wanting to talk about what happened in said interview. She knows he will want to apologise, try and explain himself even. But he did not owe her that. She would rather they just carry on like normal, save her struggling to understand why she was so bothered in the first place.

She might also be avoiding the conversation because even thinking of those photos creates a burning sensation in her stomach.

"So what is happening with Denton now?" Liz asks, hoping to change the topic before Steve has the chance, "I know it isn't exactly my business anymore, so just say what you can."

"Kate is going to the prison tomorrow," Steve explains through sips of beer, "Interviewing her again for more information. Hoping to find some sort of link between her and Hunter."

"I hope you find something soon," Liz says, sincere.

"So you won't be seeing Denton again?" Steve asks, curious if there was any way she could still assist the investigation.

"Unfortunately not," Liz remarks, sarcastically, "I deal with officers, not inmates."

"So you won't be around the office as much?"

Liz startles slightly at the question, struggling to find it anything but endearing, "I will still be around, I have other work to do. Now, I will actually have the time for my own projects. But, especially with your new boss, I doubt I will be allowed to hover around the case as much."

Steve groans at her reference to the AC-9 officer. Liz smirks into her beer, "How was the briefing anyway?"

"Insufferable," Steve drags, causing Liz to laugh.

"He isn't that bad," she says, to Steve's apparent surprise and offence.

"You seem to forget he was a crucial implement to making my first AC case hell," Steve exasperates.

Liz hums, remembering the torment Gates and the TO-20 squad had put him through last year. In fact, she had been put through quite a lot of grief by those men herself. Particularly Morton. But Dot had never made such crude passes at her. Even in their brief meetings during his gambling suspension, the man always seemed pleasant enough. Nice, even. Though, yeah, he could be a right twat when around the rest of them.

"I may not have liked any of that squad myself-"

"No, they were all arseholes," Steve spits.

"Well, out of all them, he was the arsehole that bothered me the least," Liz says, truthfully, "Encouraged Morton's behaviour, sure. But he seemed an angel in comparison."

Steve just looks at her, unconvinced.

"Look, he was the only one out of those arseholes that actually gave evidence against Gates."

"Only because you gave me damning information that I could threaten him with," Steve chuckles, disbelieving.

"True," Liz twists her mouth, "But he still did it. We both know it isn't common for anyone to willingly give someone up like that. He knew what he owed Gates, what that man could do to him. But he did it anyway."

"That's what Hastings said," Steve says, quietly.

"And he's right!" Liz smiles, "Ted may be old but he isn't a fool."

Steve chokes on his beer, laughing. Only she, his goddaughter, would be able to get away with saying something like that about the Superintendent.

"Even if you don't trust him, for whatever reasons, play along for a bit," Liz advises, "Do as he says. We don't need you breaching any more regulations now, do we?"

Steve goes quiet at that, a mix of guilt and agreement. Once again, Liz was right. He remembers when Kate and Hastings were unsure about him at the beginning. Steve was even unsure of himself. Yet, Liz had proved to be a great judge of character. After all, it is what she did for a living. So he will humour her, for now.

"Fine," Steve drinks some more of his beer before remarking bitterly, "Though, I still think he only spoke up against Gates for his own benefit. It clearly worked."

"It is hard to tell why people do the things they do," Liz quietly mutters, slightly more pointed than she had meant it to be. She hopes Steve didn't catch it, though the way he looks away from her and swigs some more of his drink suggests, unfortunately, otherwise.

* * *

"So I assume the meeting with Dryden went well, seeing as you got access to the Witness Protection files," LIz says, sipping her tea as she sits in Hastings' office.

"Absolutely," Hastings cheers, "So well in fact, he even mentioned the P word."

"A promotion?" Liz grins, "Ted, that's brilliant! Congratulations!"

He waves her off, "It isn't written in stone yet, only hovering around."

"Still," Liz places her tea cup down, worried she will drop it in excitement for the man. She knows how much this will mean to him, a raise in pay would do wonders for his relationship, "I am proud! I'll come over to yours later, have a few celebratory drinks with you and Roisin if you would like! Make a fuss!"

Hasting's smile suddenly falls, him clearing his throat.

"What?" Liz asks, worried, "What is it?"

Hastings just stares at the photograph of him and his wife on his desk. Denton had mentioned Ted's money troubles, suggesting to Liz it was worse than he had told her. But how bad was it?

"Has she kicked you out?"

He doesn't answer. That tells her all she needs to know.

Liz groans, shaking her head in disbelief, "That woman. Where are you staying then?"

"Just some bedsit for the moment," Hastings explains quickly before Liz can cut him off with a concerned rant, "But I am seeing Roisin later, hopefully the good news will put things right."

Liz frowns, worried about the man, "You should have told me."

"For what?"

"You could stay with me," Liz offers.

"No, no," Hastings chuckles, though the smile doesn't reach his eyes, "That won't be necessary."

Liz takes another sip of her tea, not sure what to say. She only hopes he is right, that Roisin will listen.

"I am calling Arnott in today," Hastings changes the subject suddenly, Liz knowing it was bad when he referred to the man by his surname.

Liz only sighs, knowing it is necessary.

"I'm disappointed in him," Hastings mutters.

"We all are," Liz says, sadly, "But please, go easy on him."

"You've asked me to do that so many times before."

"I know, but deep down under the idiocy he is a good investigator. And a good man."

Hastings huffs, knowing she is right. He was already struggling to think of what to say to the man when he calls him in later. That didn't make his need to berate him any easier.

Just then, there is a knock on his office door. Liz looks to it as it opens, revealing Cottan. She stands, putting her mug down on the desk, feeling rather awkward that she had been seen so casually with Hastings by someone other than Kate or Steve. The man doesn't seem to notice, or if he did, he was politely turning a blind eye to it.

"Ah, there you are," Hastings stands too, approaching the man at the door.

"You asked for me?" Cotton says, looking between the two.

"I should go," Liz mutters, heading to leave the room.

Before she does, Hastings exclaims, "Beth, this is Mathew Cottan. We call him Dot."

The pair shake hands, Dot giving her a warm smile, "Yeah, we've met."

Hastings' brow raises before he remembers Liz often visited the TO-20 branch for appointments.

"How are you finding AC-9? Congratulations, by the way," Liz says to the man as she drops his hand, deciding he had been polite enough to make some small talk.

"Thanks. It's not so bad," the man sighs, "How about you, Queenie? Still doing appointments?"

"Uh, yeah," Liz smiles, though slightly irked at hearing the nickname, "My office is just over there, let me know if you need anything."

"Will do," he says, with a friendly smile but a hint of insistence.

Liz balks slightly but offers the two men a polite smile as she passes to leave for her office.

A few minutes later from her desk, Liz looks beyond her computer to see Steve enter the AC-12 office, seemingly indifferent as he swipes his pass to enter through the gate. She only hopes he knows what he is in for when he steps into Hastings' office. Liz watches as he knocks on Hastings' office door and opens it, moving to the side with a glare to allow Dot to pass before going in himself. She winces as the door closes behind him, the sound almost cruel. As she goes to look back at her emails, she catches eyes briefly with Dot, who glances at her curiously as he goes to sit at his newly allocated desk. Quickly devoiding her face of any sympathy for her friend, to not look unprofessional, Liz snaps her eyes back to her keyboard and tries to distract herself with work.

What felt like an eternity later, with Liz unable to concentrate on her emails at the thought of what was happening in the other office, Steve finally appears. HIs head hangs low, the tips of his ears burning as he lets out a breath. Liz pushes her chair back, unable to focus on her emails and goes to her doorway to catch him as he passes - but Steve hasvrushed past her office before she has the chance. Her heart pangs as he hastily enters the lift and out of sight. She knows, more than anyone, how ruthless Hastings can be when he berates. She is sure he just needs a moment to evaluate everything. And he should. Liz forgave him, but Steve had been an idiot. He needed to learn the consequences.

She watches, surprised, as Dot passes too, once again catching her eye as he does, following Steve into the lift.

Just as Liz turns to her desk again, she catches the eye of someone else who then exits the lift. A welcome distraction for her already distracted mind.

"Kate," Liz calls with a smile.

The woman turns to her, walking over with a small wave, "Liz, you alright?"

"Yeah," Liz says, quickly, wanting to get to her point, "You didn't come to the pub the other night? Steve said you were busy?"

Liz notes the faint blush that appears on Kate's cheeks as she stutters before answering, "Oh, yeah, uh, my Tesco order was being delivered."

Liz raises a disbelieving brow and hums, "Hastings said you and Steve visited Richard Akers yesterday."

Kate swallows, uncomfortable under Liz's scrutinous gaze, "Good, yeah. Seems to be holding up."

"Was Mark not available?" Liz asks, feigning curiosity as her friend shifts uneasily, "To receive the Tesco order, I mean?"

She watches the way Kate looks around, her eyes beginning to redden like her cheeks, "Uh, well…"

"Come on," Liz turns into her office, gesturing for Kate to follow and closing the door behind them. Liz pulls her desk chair around to sit beside Kate and leans her elbows on her knees, "Talk to me."

"About what?" Kate chokes, fingers restlessly fighting with each other.

"Kate," Liz sighs, placing a comforting hand on her friend's knee, "You're trained in espionage. Best in the class. Yet I can read you like a book."

Kate sucks in a breath of air, willing away the tears that are threatening to spill.

 _She knows_ , Kate thinks. _She always knows._

"You don't have to tell me anything, if you don't want to," Liz says, her sympathetic eyes breaking Kate's heart, "I just need to know; are you ok?"

Tears fall, hot and heavy as Kate looks her friend in the eye, "I am having an affair with Richard Akers."

She lets out a shuddering breath once it is out. A part of her feels relieved, like some of the clouded stress has been cleared from her mind. Another part, the biggest part, feels the truth of that statement weigh her soul down further. But it was out. There was no going back.

Kate looks away from Liz to her hands, afraid of what she will see on her friend's face.

"That wasn't what I asked."

Kate's head snaps up to her friend, eyes puffy, wide and disbelieving.

Liz reaches out for her hand, and in what Kate believes is the most heartening way possible, she repeats, "Are you ok?

Kate struggles for words for a moment, stunned that while she has confessed to such a hard, cruel truth her friend continues to look at her with the most soft, kind expression.

She lunges forward, capturing Liz in a hug. Feeling Liz squeeze her back, a hand resting as if to cradle the back of her head, Kate allows herself to weep. The stress, the grief, the _guilt_.

Liz just holds her while she cries, wishing she could take on some of her friend's burden. Unfortunately, this was Kate's wrongdoing to put right. She just hopes she could help.

Kate leans back after a moment, Liz using her finger to wipe away some smudged mascara. Their hands remain interlocked. Kate refuses to let go, afraid Liz will leave her. Liz wants to reassure her friend she is going nowhere.

"That's why I requested to be taken off the case," Kate explains through strangled sobs, "I couldn't handle it. _Jayne_. But then not doing anything about it, I couldn't. That was somehow worse-"

"I know," Liz asserts, aware sometimes people needed time to breathe and process before they talked.

"How?" Kate asks, her breathing slower but her heart beating a little more rapidly. If she knew, who else did? Steve? Hastings?... Mark?

"Well," Liz shrugs, though keeping her tone quiet, "The phone calls. The excuses on nights out. The way he looked at you at the funeral. I know you, Kate. I know when something is on your mind. And lately, you just seemed so distracted. Distant."

Kate nods, taking another deep breath and wiping her bleary eyes.

"Does Mark know?" Liz asks, hesitantly.

Kate shakes her head quickly, with a deep frown - Liz takes it as anger at herself as she thinks of her husband and son, "No. At least, I don't think so."

Liz knows what Kate has done is wrong. But she has thought she knew for a while, and seeing her friend in such a way; how could she not offer her help?

Besides, if this were a professional appointment, Liz would be bound by unbiasedness. And, judging by Kate's display of guilt, it seemed her friend was beating herself up for it enough. Of course, her heart ached for Kate's son and Mark.

But Kate was one of the few people Liz could list on one hand that had ever given her the time. She knew she was as much Kate's friend as Kate was hers. When Liz thought she was failing during training, Kate was there, offering guidance and assurance. When Liz doubted her ability in creating the O.K. network, Kate was there, suggesting contacts and resources. Whenever Liz needed a friend, Kate was there. And now, Kate needs a friend, so she will be there.

Liz gives her friend's hand a reassuring squeeze, "I am here, if you need me. Just a shout, phone call or email away."

Kate smiles, allowing herself to revel in her friend's warmth after feeling so cold and dirty, "I know."

A knock on Liz's door breaks their moment. Kate immediately drops Liz's hand, impressing her friend by the quickness she rids her face of the onslaught of emotion she wore just a second ago.

"Come in," Liz calls, moving her chair back around her desk.

The door opens, revealing Steve.

"Have you got a minute?"

LIz sends him a small smile- she still found it endearing when he came to her office to talk - turning to Kate with an apologetic look. Kate shakes her head slightly as she stands, assuring the other woman she was alright.

"Bye, Liz," Kate says as she stops beside Steve in the doorway, looking at her friend with a grateful smile, "And thank you."

"Anytime," Liz kindly smiles back, "We'll talk soon?"

"Yeah," Kate says, leaving for her desk.

Liz turns her gaze to Steve, gesturing for him to come in. He closes the door behind him and takes a seat where Kate just was.

"So," Liz leans forward on her desk, twisting her mouth awkwardly, "How was it?"

Steve huffs, "Terrifying."

Liz cannot help but smile, "Yeah, he can be."

Steve watches her, clearly reminiscing about the times her godfather likely scolded her as a child. He almost chuckles at the unlikely image of it - a young Liz defiantly scowling up at Hastings as he warningly points his finger down at her.

"What did he say?" Liz asks, knowing Hastings was unsure how to approach the situation, "Are you being punished?"

"Should I be?" Steve suddenly challenges.

Liz leans back in her chair, folding her arms, frowning at his overly defensive tone, "You breached regulations."

"She's not a witness against Denton, she hasn't even heard of her," Steve sits straighter, ready to defend himself just as he had done in Hastings' office, "It isn't relevant to the investigation."

"Denton has the accusation on tape, she _quoted_ the regulations," Liz rebukes, disappointed he is denying blame. She knew this conversation would have to happen sooner or later, no matter how much she tried to delay it.

"The nurse isn't a witness and she isn't being charged as an accessory," Steve almost shouts at her.

"That's not the point!" Liz chides, louder than she intended, leaning forward again to match his confrontational posture.

She rubs a palm over her forehead, irritated as he rolls his eyes.

Steve assumes Liz will do just as Hastings did, take the 'moral' stance and list the regs.

"You played right into her hands," Liz says, perturbed.

"What do you mean?" Steve frowns, feeling his impatience give way to curiosity.

Liz sighs, "Denton. That woman is clever. _Very_ clever. She is trying to undermine you, deflect the attention from herself onto your mistakes. Can't you see that?"

Steve sits, looking at her blankly.

"She wants you to slip up," Liz explains, desperately trying to get him to see why she, at least, was disappointed, "You're making it easy for her."

"Am I?" Steve asks, still feeling defensive after a morning of constant scolding.

"Yes!" Liz exclaims. She had taken Steve's side time after time, but this time? He was in the wrong, "Now, I have no right to comment on your relationships or sex life-"

"No. You don't," Steve quickly scorns, both out of offense and embarrassment. This was the last thing he wanted to be talking to anyone about, especially Lizzie. It had been awkward with Hastings, but something about discussing it with her - it was too much. As much as he will remain non-regretful for what he did, part of Steve wishes in that moment nothing had happened between him and the nurse, just so he could avoid this conversation.

It was almost funny. He had hoped for this conversation since Denton's interview, wanting to clear the air with Lizzie. Yet, now here the two of them were, and he wanted nothing more than for it to stop.

He supposes part of him was more _embarrassed_ than defensive. Not just because of the sensitive topic - though he stands by his personal business being _his personal_ business - but the way he feels he is letting Lizzie down. Again.

Steve had felt a similar way when he had resigned during the Gates case. That dreadful ache in his chest as he thought of her and what she thought of him. It had ached then, but after knowing her for a year and the pair growing closer - it was almost unbearable.

Her opinion of him mattered, more to him than anyone else. She understood him, knew Steve better than he felt he knew himself sometimes. If she was disappointed, he knew, beneath it all, he should be too. It urged him to look at himself, work himself out. Though, when he did come to any conclusion, he still struggled to put it into practice. Hence, why they were now arguing.

He could be an arrogant arsehole. Sometimes. This was definitely one of those times.

Liz almost chokes, feeling her cheeks burning fiercely.

She had warned him about Denton. And he chose to ignore her. Why should she try again? This was _his_ case and _his_ problem.

Of course, Liz had regretfully and confusedly been more affected by it than she should have been. It felt somewhat good to finally lay into him about underestimating Denton. But deep down she knew she was not satisfied. Liz may not understand it, but she knew it was so much more than that. The idea of Steve being as caring and charming with other women as he had been with her- The idea of Steve getting other women to open up to him so easily as he had been with her- The idea of Steve choosing other women over her- The idea of losing him- as a friend-

Hell, Denton, who was clearly using Steve's antics to get to her too, knew how much it would upset her. So, what did she think was the reason?

Her stomach twists again, as it has done so many times because of that infuriating, little man.

Steve Arnott was an arrogant arsehole. Sometimes. This was definitely one of those times.

"I'm sorry," he says, quietly.

Liz raises a brow, surprised. She thought it would take a little more convincing for him to realise how pratt-ish he was being.

"I just-" Steve hesitates, unsure what he wants to say, "I don't want to let anyone down."

Liz's brow raises higher at the honest confession. She almost finds it endearing, the way he is looking at his feet. Bashfully, like a berated child.

"Only yourself. Don't let Denton win," Liz offers, unfolding her arms to show him she is once again at ease. He seems to slip in his seat slightly when he notices, shoulders softening.

"You think she is guilty?" Steve asks, convinced Liz's definite tone reflects that opinion.

"I don't know," Liz runs a hand through her hair, faintly admitting it, "She made a good point, she has no motive or means. Your evidence is purely circumstantial or accusatory."

"Lizzie," Steve shakes his head, incredulous, "She _threatened_ you. How can you still believe that woman isn't corrupt?"

"I don't like to think anyone is," Liz shrugs, "I prefer to think people are left no other choice."

Steve huffs, though amused by what he sees as her blaise naivety, "People always have a choice."

She hums, looking him in the eye, "And sometimes people make the wrong ones."

Steve flinches under her gaze, recognising her pointed tone. Lizzie was good at that; humbling him.

"What did Dot want?" Liz asks, following his silence. Steve had apologised and she supposed she had scolded him enough - for now, "I saw him follow you out. Another lecture?"

Steve shakes his head, "He invited me for a curry."

He feels a grin spread across his face at the way her eyes bulge.

"He what?!"

"I know," Steve laughs, relieved the mood has turned lighter, "I am surprised as you are."

Liz feels her mouth hanging open, "Any idea why?"

Steve shrugs, "Maybe he feels sorry for me…"

Liz rolls her eyes, exaggeratedly, "Just what we need. Someone else feeling sorry for you."

"Hey!" Steve chuckles, trying to be offended at yet another of her pointed remarks, but knowing she was just joking by the humorous glint in her eye. At least, he hoped she was joking.

"So when are you both going on your date?" Liz says, mirroring his grin.

Steve rolls his eyes now, "Said he has his lunch at two. Hastings gave me the rest of the day off to 'think about what I have done'."

Liz tries not to visibly cringe at the familiar phrase, perfectly picturing the man saying it many times to her younger self.

"Maybe he wants to show you he isn't as bad as you think," Liz suggests, once again annoying Steve with her optimism about the man, "A reconciliation?"

"He's a wanker."

A knock on the door interrupts them.

"You ready to go?" The devil himself says.

Dot stands in her office doorway, looking between the pair.

Liz watches as the tips of Steve's ears turn red, eyes wide as he hopes he was not heard.

She looks away with a smirk to the time on her computer, alarmed it was now, in fact, two o'clock and she had spent half her day talking to her two friends.

"Uh, yeah," Steve says, looking back at Liz as he grabs his jacket and stands from his chair.

Have fun," she smiles to both the men.

Steve sends her an uncertain glance before leading the way out the office with a final wave in her direction, "See you later, Liz."

"Yeah, see you, Queenie," Dot smiles too, following after Steve.

She sends the taller man one last friendly smile as he closes the door behind them.

Looking back at the unopened emails on her computer screen, Liz chuckles to herself. Oh, how she would love to be sitting in on that lunch.

* * *

"So, this nurse. She fit, was she?" Dot asks as the two men begin to eat their food.

Steve resists rolling his eyes, instead shrugging, "Alright."

"Well?" the taller man prompts, pausing as he rips apart some bread, "Did you?"

Steve huffs out a cold laugh, "You need to brush up your interrogation technique."

Of course Cottan had only invited him out for gossip. Trying to get the better of him, as he had done a year ago when he was part of TO-20. Maybe Liz was wrong, for once. He was still a prick.

Dot chuckles, his attention soon brought to something past Steve's shoulder.

"Don't look now, right," Dot begins, lowly, though sighs when Steve does exactly that, "What did I say about not looking?"

Steve glares.

Dot, unphased, continues, "There's a couple of birds behind you. Now, I'm not formulating a plan or anything but…"

Turning back from taking another glance at the women at the nearby table, Steve frowns, "There's three of them."

Dot rolls his eyes, "I'm a bloody detective inspector. I can see there's three of them."

Steve shakes his head, regretfully amused, and takes a sip of his beer as the man opposite continues.

"There's always one who's got a boyfriend or on her period or summat."

Almost choking on his beer, Steve taunts, "You were obviously off the day they did gender awareness training."

"Hey," Dot exclaims with an exaggerated frown, "I _gave_ the gender awareness training."

Steve laughs. Unfortunately.

"This is bloody weird, Dot," he says, thinking back to where they were a year ago.

"What? Me and you working together?"

"Well, yeah," Steve is surprised by his casual tone.

"That's anti-corruption, mate," Dot replies, taking another bite of the bread, "Beggars can't be choosers. This is all on me by the way."

"No way," Steve insists at his offhand offer. Why was he doing this?

"No arguments," Dot scolds, "First thing's first."

Steve watches as he calls over a waiter and leans in close.

"Pop over there, yeah?" he instructs, "And ask those lovely ladies what we can get them to drink. NO food, mind, I'm not made of money."

Steve guffaws at the man as the waiter walks away. He had just been accused of inappropriate misconduct with a woman and here Dot was encouraging him to go after three more.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks, unable to work it out.

"Why not?" the other man shrugs, finishing his bread.

Steve glances back at the table of women, seeing them look over as the waiter asks for their drinks, pointing in their direction.

Cottan waves with a charming smile. Steve's chest hurts.

Something doesn't feel right.

"You alright, mate?" Dot asks with a humorous smirk, Steve then realising he had been staring aimlessly at the table, "Kind of killing my vibe here."

"Uh, yeah," Steve frowns, unsure what is making his chest ache in this way. He felt it an hour ago, that same burning sensation, when he was sitting in Lizzie's office. And again when he was with the nurse. And Georgia.

Dot studies him for a moment, watching as Steve fiddles to loosen his tie slightly, "It's Queenie, isn't it?"

"What?" Steve asks, going for his beer in the hope the cool drink will soothe his chest. Or at least get him drunk enough to endure whatever this conversation was.

"What is it with you two?" Dot says, inquisitively.

"Who?"

"You and Liz."

Steve's mouth runs dry, despite having just chugged some beer. It feels like sand in his throat as he swallows.

Dot chuckles as he sees the smaller man's eyes widen, the whites of his eyes only a shade paler than his face, "She's holding you back."

"What are you talking about?" Steve insists. This was the second time someone had suggested something between them. And it apparently didn't shock him any less.

Dot rolls his eyes, learning forward and pointing a finger, "Or maybe _you're_ holding _her_ back."

Steve shakes his head, unsure if something was slipped into the dough of the bread Cottan had just been eating.

"Listen," the taller man says, "Queenie's a lovely gal. One of a kind-"

"Why do you call her that?" Steve bites, bitterly, though somewhat embarrassed that is all he can manage to say.

"Elizabeth. The Queen. Queenie," Dot shrugs, "Morton thought of it first."

Steve feels his jaw clench at the name, not only remembering how the man had threatened him and beaten Kate, but also what Lizzie had told him about their appointments. How he would leech at her. He had never seen her so uncomfortable. His fists tighten.

"Anyway, as I was saying," Dot continues, nonchalantly, "She's beautiful."

Steve winces.

"And kind."

He winces again.

"And any man would be lucky to have her."

And again.

"So, you've got to make your mind up," Dot says cooly, drinking some of his own beer, "Let someone else have a go if you're going to keep jumping around."

Steve sits silently for a moment. He tries to think of something to say, but is coming up empty. In fact, he is trying to think of... _anything_ … but his mind is blank.

What did he say at Georgia's insinuation?

 _Blank_.

Or what had he wanted to say?

 _Blank_.

"Lizzie's my friend," Steve finally remarks after a moment, rather pathetically. Was that really all he could think to say?

"Good to know," Dot smirks, finishing his beer.

Steve's chest burns more fiercely than ever.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My longest chapter yet, wow! Found myself struggling with this one. It is difficult to include and balance all the information from all the episodes in this story when Liz is not directly involved in the investigation. I am glad I chose this angle, as it is more interesting to explore character-wise. But phew, it takes a lot of work!
> 
> As always, let me know what you think and enjoy!

"Did Denton ever mention Dryden?" Kate asks her friend as she sits in her office with a coffee.

"You know that I still can't say," Liz sighs, looking at her from over her computer. Since she no longer had any appointments with Denton, there was a backlog of contacts she needed to respond to and rearrange meetings with.

"But you gave Hastings all those files?"

"Profiles and notes, yes," Liz explains, "But anything deemed too personal or confidential I redacted. I still have the only explicit copies."

Kate sighs.

"Why do you ask?" Liz inquires, wishing she could help.

"Confidential, sorry," Kate teases, smirking into her coffee.

Liz remembers Dryden being mentioned before in this case, somewhere along the line. Lindsay had dropped his name into their appointments a few times too, though always seemed to choose her words carefully when she did. Liz had assumed perhaps something rather unprofessional had happened between them. Though, it was not her place to assume anything. She is also rather grateful the confidentiality prevents her from suggesting the idea of an affair to Kate - the topic still rather raw.

Liz had hoped her friend would come to see her again sooner, opening up more about her entanglement with Richard Akers. But their conversation so far had been purely about work; Liz complaining about her never-ending chain of emails, Kate yawning after a long night of investigating. She assumed Dryden's name had somehow popped up again during her research, hence Kate's asking. But why?

Liz things of Hastings, then. If Dryden was somehow involved in this case, that could prove disastrous. The superior had just offered the man a promotion, put the idea into Ted's head that this was the way to make things right with his wife. In fact, Ted was supposed to have met with Roisin the evening before, to tell her the hopeful news, but Liz had not yet seen him to ask how it went. Dryden was not a patient man, Liz had heard. Very concerned for his reputation and public image. She doubts he would be as forgiving if he was called in for an interview, thus associated with a corruption case. The man seemed to be losing his mind at all the petty accusations of his wife's speeding ticket that he kept being hounded for in the press.

"How was Lindsay?" Liz asks, as Kate had visited the woman in prison for another interview.

Steve had explained she was visiting Denton to get an answer for why she was at the Canalside Industrial Estate, still pushing the narrative the woman knew more prior about the Carly Kirk case than she was letting on. The garage had been used by the same people who carried out the ambush, who used the nurse to gain access to the ICU. After Steve and Kate found a body under the garage's concrete floor, the desperation to find a link to Denton had been profound. There was no ID of the body yet, with the face and finger-pulps brutally burned off, but it was believed to be a young girl of 15. The same age as Carly Kirk.

"It just can't be a coincidence," Kate shakes her head, indicating Denton did not give her what she wanted to hear, "Even she admitted it would seem that way, were she the one investigating."

"Does she still deny contacting the hospital to assist or alert the assassin?"

"Yeah, gave me the same bullshit about wanting the Protected Witness to prove her innocence."

Liz's mouth twists in thought, her mind unable to focus on deciding whether she believed Denton was lying or not. She did not have all the facts or files on the case that Kate, Steve or anyone in AC-12 did. But she knew Denton, perhaps better than any of them. Was she really capable of all she was being accused of?

"Should see the state of her though," Kate says, finishing her coffee and throwing the empty cup in the bin.

"What do you mean?" Liz inquires.

"Both hands in casts," Kate explains, recalling the weariness of the woman, "Burns."

"How?" Liz asks, shocked that she had not been informed.

"Spilt something on herself, apparently," Kate says, indifferent, "Though I bet she rubbed someone else the wrong way."

Liz hums, knowing Lindsay and knowing that was very likely.

"Said prison has opened her eyes," Kate mocks, "She's been set up to take the fall for everything. Says even our investigation is rigged, with us being prevented from investigating anyone but her."

"Only someone with as much authority as Dryden could control that," Liz says, suggestively, "Is that why you asked?"

"We think they had an affair," Kate says, blunty, surprising Liz with her lack of bother about talking about the subject in regards to someone else, "You're in on this one. We could use your help."

"Did Lindsay confess that?" Liz asks, supposing if Kate was sharing something, she could too. If Denton was innocent, and had been set up by someone, surely she owed them all her thoughts on her relationship with Dryden if he was a possible suspect, "I had my theories on the two of them but never enough to believe it."

"Claimed it went on for five years," Kate explains, to Liz's shock, "Only have her word for it though."

"So you think that implicates him in some way?"

"Well, even Denton couldn't give me a reason for why he would be setting her up."

"Denton is a clever woman, we both know that," Liz almost pleads to Kate, who was clearly underestimating her and too assured of the woman's guilt, "It is unlikely, if she were trying to implicate someone else like that, she wouldn't have conjured up or even planned a reason for them to have a motive. She wants us to believe her, so why would she leave that out? Why would she lie?"

Kate thinks for a moment, supposing her friend is right.

"If she has remained silent about the affair all this time and protected him," Liz continues, impassioned, "what reason would she think he has to set her up? She has an answer for everything, so why not this?"

"Because she is lying?" Kate offers, seeming to believe it.

Liz sighs, "How can you be sure? What if Dryden is the one with something to hide?"

"That's what we need to find out."

"Are you bringing him in then?"

"Tomorrow," Kate says, knowing she should not have divulged that information, but feeling as though Liz was trustworthy and involved enough to be informed, "Turns out they were both assigned to the Crime Audit at Kingsgate in 2008. So I suppose there is some credibility in her claims. But she is just a woman scorned. Wants to tie up our investigation into her by putting the attention on him - as she attempted with us."

Liz nods, still unsure.

Denton was her responsibility once, not too long ago. She knows, considering the circumstances of her being in prison, Denton was no longer her's to be concerned for. But she was.

If, as Liz admittedly and regretfully fears, the woman _is_ innocent, she will need someone to support her. It sounds as though she is being put through hell in that cell. Denton has no one. Liz has a duty of care. How can she just sit here, sipping hot chocolate with her friend, while her client is harmed in a cell that may not belong to her?

Denton may be corrupt. If not as an officer, in her ways. Beating Kate, shaming Steve, threatening _her._ But, under all the cruelty and the coldness, Liz could see Lindsay Denton was lonely. A social outcast with her mother, and only family, in care. When Liz told Steve once before she believed most people often turn to corruption because they had no other choice, she meant it. They don't need punishment. They need help. Sometimes, they just need someone to listen.

And listening is what Liz did best.

"Did you hear about Steve and Dot's date?" Kate asks with an amused smile, gratefully breaking Liz out of her worried thoughts.

Liz laughs, "I did! Have you seen Steve since? I had gone home before they must have come back to the office."

"Not yet," the other woman smiles, finding the image of the two men sitting having a candlelit curry endlessly entertaining. Rather Steve than her, "Though, I would love to know what they talked about."

"Well, now might be your time to ask," Liz says, looking through her window to see Steve arrive.

Kate and Liz jump from their seats, eager to catch him as he reaches his desk. Removing his jacket and placing it on the back of his desk chair, Steve nods at the two women in greeting as they approach.

"So?" Kate asks, folding her arms, cautious to keep her voice low as Dot sat at his desk a few rows behind them.

"What?" Steve questions, obviously acting oblivious.

"How was it?"

"Not the best curry I've had but the atmosphere was nice enough," Steve says, sitting in front of his computer.

"Not the restaurant, I meant the evening in general with that tosser," Kate rolls her eyes, impatiently.

Steve stares at his screen, finding himself unable to look at them. Lizzie in particular.

"Alright, yeah," he answers, vaguely.

Kate huffs, unfolding her arms and turning away, disappointed by the lack of gossip. She had thought Steve would be gagging to bitch about Dot, after how much he insisted the man was a wanker. Kate could think of nothing worse than having to sit opposite that man while he droned on for more than five minutes.

Steve watches her walk away to her desk, catching eyes with Dot who was clearly listening in to their conversation, amused.

"What did you boys talk about?"

Steve's eyes suddenly snap up to Liz's as she asks that. His mind floods with the memory of their conversation he had tried so hard to forget.

Liz frowns as the tips of his ears turn a deep shade of red, his cheeks tinged with a purple hue. He looks like he is going to be sick as his eyes frantically dart between her and the man sitting a few desks behind her.

"Just…" Steve swallows, hard, "work."

Liz's furrowed brow lifts suddenly in doubt. Liz turns around to look at Dot, questioningly, seeing the taller man smirk before turning away to look at his computer screen. What did they possibly talk about that was causing Steve to look so flustered and Dot so amused?

"Major Violent Crimes have arrested Richard Akers," Steve says, quickly as if wanting to get his words out without giving her a chance to interrupt, "Apparently the financial records suggest Jayne was on the take."

"Bribes?"

Steve nods, "We are going to try and get to him too, learn what we can ourselves."

"Does Kate know?" Liz asks, concernedly looking over to where the woman sat at her desk.

"She was the one that got the call," Steve says, "Why?"

Liz takes a breath, thinking of an excuse, "Well, they are friends. Will be hard for her, I'm sure."

Why had Kate not mentioned that to her? In fact, Kate had not mentioned her affair at all since she admitted to it in Liz's office. Liz hopes, as Kate usually did, the woman was not going forward pretending their conversation had not happened. That she was fine. She didn't want her friend closing off to her again. Not when she needed help.

Steve nods, "She seemed alright when we visited his house."

"She was?" Liz exclaims more than asks. She doubts that would have been easy for Kate, or Richard.

"Yeah," he shrugs, thankfully not seeming to notice any other meaning behind Lizzie's concern, "We are bringing Denton in again, too."

"Really?" Liz asks, trying to keep her voice calm as she thinks of having to see Lindsay again.

"It will be fine," Steve assures, sensing Lizzie's discomfort.

He assumes Liz is nervous, still unsettled by the way the woman threatened her. In reality, Liz was more concerned with having to face the guilt of seeing Denton as weary as Kate had described, knowing she had abandoned her.

"You don't have to be present anymore, she isn't your responsibility," Steve explains in an attempt to comfort the concernedly pale woman beside him.

"No," Liz says, "But could I watch from the viewing room?"

Liz knows she should probably let the Denton case go. Steve was right, it was no longer her responsibility.

But she just can't take her mind off it, no matter how much she tried to focus on her other work.

This was the first time Liz had been given any insight into working an anticorruption case, having only ever watched from the sidelines. Sure, she was not directly involved in investigating. But after being present at the interviews and spending so much time with, not only the AC-12 officers, but the suspect too - she was a part of this.

"I don't see why not," Steve shrugs, "We have the Akers interview this afternoon, Dryden tomorrow morning and Denton the day after that around 14.00."

"Wow. You're busy then? I should leave you to it," Liz says, though truthfully is unsure if she will be able to refocus on her emails, much preferring to stay in Steve's company.

Steve almost offers for her to join him at his desk, to help him with some research as she had done so many times before. He enjoyed her company, it made the more dull tasks much easier to bear. But he catches eyes with Dot again, the conversation from the day before flooding back to the forefront of his mind causing a headache at his brow. And so, as if to make a point, he responds, "Alright, see you later."

Steve's chest pangs slightly as he looks back to his computer and pretends to read the information on the screen.

Liz deflates at his casual dismissal. She offers him a timid, unenthusiastic smile as she turns to leave for her office.

Once at her desk, having closed the door behind her to physically close off any chance of welcome distraction from her work that needed to be completed, Liz groans as she rubs her eyes with her palms.

So much was happening, yet there was so little she could do.

* * *

Liz winces as she watches the recording of the interview happening in the other room.

She had made sure to wait until at least ten minutes into the interview to leave her office and come to the viewing room, not wanting Denton to see her.

Kate was right, the woman looked awful. Her burnt hands hang limp, almost lifeless in their casts. Liz clenches and unclenches her fists as she looks at them, as if she can feel the scalding herself. Lindsay's bloodshot, puffy eyes stare blankly at the table as she is questioned by the three AC-12 officers. Not the same cruel, blank glare she used to challenge and intimidate them with before. Her eyes were still cold, yes. But defeated.

After all the intimidating things the woman had done or been accused of, no longer being able to read that familiar resolute pretension was perhaps the most unsettled Liz had been since meeting Lindsay Denton.

"Returning to the night of the mabush, the only officer you disclosed the operation to was who?" Liz hears Kate ask through the live recording audio.

"Deputy Chief Constable Mike Dryden," Lindsay says through grit teeth.

"DCC Dryden corroborates receiving your call," Kate informs her.

Lindsay takes in a breath, nodding slowly, "Good."

Kate had come to Liz after their interview with Dryden earlier that morning, said he was cooperative but clearly offended to be sat in the AC-12 interview room. Apparently, Hastings remained quiet for the majority of it, Liz assuming he was still trying to win the superior over as to not risk his possible promotion. He ended the interview before they could push further, but Dryden _had_ confirmed he spoke to Denton that night. Liz didn't have the chance to catch Ted after the interview, as she had watched him hastily disappear after Dryden, no doubt assuring him he had no other choice and apologising for the whole thing.

Many things went unanswered after Dryden's brief interview. Did he approve the lack of backup or firearms when transporting the Protected Witness? Did he change the rota so Denton was on duty? There was also no evidence of Lindsay's alleged relationship with him, though Liz doubted the man would just come out and admit to it. Especially with him being as concerned with his image as he was.

Kate explained to her friend she proposed to Hastings they interview Dryden's wife, as he alleged she was the only one to witness the phone call between him and Denton. Hastings did not approve, claiming it would be non-evidential. He also, to Liz's dismay, tried to dissuade them from looking more into the alleged affair.

Steve and Kate refused to let that happen, Liz had been assured. They requested access to his electronic diary and emails to trace his exact movements that day. Steve, according to Kate, had suggested he was taking the blame for his wife's speeding ticket that night to create an alibi for being somewhere else that could possibly implicate him in association with the ambush or Denton herself. That was the angle they were going with during this interview, trying to see what this theory revealed.

"Was DCC Dryden known to you in a purely professional capacity?" Kate asks Denton.

"No," Denton sighs, "It went beyond that."

"This alleged relationship with Deputy Chief Constable Dryden-"

"'Alleged?'" Denton cuts Hastings off, who continues unphased.

"-Describe this _alleged_ relationship."

"It began when we worked in Crime Audit together and ended a couple of months ago."

"And how did it end?"

"He didn't leave his wife."

"He made promises," Kate says, "What kind?"

"That he would leave his wife."

"God give me strength," Hastings huffs, impatient, "The issue here is that an allegation has been put forward by you, DI Denton, that the Deputy Chief Constable has somehow set you up for the ambush that happened on the night of September 5th. Now is that the top and the bottom of it?"

"Honestly, sir," Denton says, quietly, "I don't know."

The vulnerability in Lindsay's tone is not the same as the rather performative one she used the first time she had an interview in this office, Liz notes. The younger woman almost wishes she was still assigned to her, requested to be sitting beside her now. Denton had held her hand before. She feels the urge to offer that again.

Though, the burns would probably not allow it.

Hastings scoffs, disappointing Liz, and shakes his head, "And you wouldn't have anything to substantiate this _theory_? I mean, a little thing called _evidence._ "

"I resent your tone, Superintendent Hastings," Denton scolds, familiarly.

"She resents my tone," Hastings mocks.

Steve leans forward, clearly wanting to move things along from Hastings' biases, "If there's been a relationship, we need a corroboration. Did you ever go to his home?"

"No," Denton says, quiet again, "He only ever came to mine."

"Any witnesses?"

"I doubt it, we were very discreet."

"Hotels?"

"We visited a place a few times. I've submitted the details for you," Denton explains as her solicitor hands over a document.

Steve and Kate take a moment to study the document before he speaks again, "Well most places, they insist on a credit card imprint when you check in."

"Mike insisted on using mine and then he gave me the cash."

"So he never used his?"

"Not that I recall."

"Did he make calls from his mobile there or the room phone?" Steve asks, seeing Denton nod in response, "Good, we'll find out if any of the staff remember both of you being there."

Hastings speaks up again now, folding his arms frustratedly, "See the thing is, DI Denton, that the more intricate this investigation becomes, the easier it is for you to try and confound my team."

Liz has to admit he makes a fair point. This case only proved more and more complex the more she revealed. Steve had seemed certain of her guilt before, yet just now was almost eager to find proof of her and Dryden's relationship. Maybe, and Liz had no doubt she was capable seeing as how conflicted she felt about the woman herself, Denton _was_ playing a game. Adding details, implicating others, throwing the attention away from herself.

"But me," Hastings says, lowly, "I've been around the block a few times. I don't care if you and the DCC were swinging off the chandeliers. That does not make him a conspirator."

Yet again, Liz's opinion swings the other way. While he raised valid critiques of her account and behaviour, Hastings was proving himself to be defending the man who had offered him a promotion. He had a bias. It was not exactly subtle.

"You also maintain that you've never heard of the Protected Witness?"

"I haven't."

"And that you've never even met Akers before?"

"No."

"And yet one phone call from Akers and you are up to your neck in all her dodgy business?"

Lindsay leans forward, bitterly, "Because I am a police officer and she needed my help."

The cold glare returns for a silent moment between the woman and Hastings.

"Did you request approval from DCC Dryden to proceed without backup and without firearms?" Kate inquiries, returning their attention to the matter at hand.

"I did."

"But with no recording," Hastings interrupts, as he usually did when interviewing a suspect, yet this time it seemed more immature to Liz given his personal partiality, "it is your word against his."

Lindsay looks back to the man, sternly stating, "My word is I did."

Liz watches as a tense silence falls over the room before Lindsay speaks up again, directing her scorn at Hastings, "You know what? If you've been around the block a few times, sir, then you tell me; have you found anything lately which makes me appear guilty?"

Hastings is silent.

"Anything?" Denton presses.

The man says nothing.

"Or is it starting to look like you might just have the wrong person?" she challenged, looking him in the eye.

Liz watches as the older man ducks his head slightly, breaking away from her gaze.

"Ma'am," Kate says, drawing Lindsay's attention back to her, "all the information gleaned from our post-charge investigation is going to the CPS."

"Good," Lindsay nods, adamantly, "Then it won't be long before they realise there's no credible case against me."

On the screen, Liz sees the conflicted expressions on each of the officers' faces. She can't blame them. With so much information pulling them so many ways, it was difficult to know what was going to be the outcome.

"Look, my mum is very ill," Denton says, Liz's heart panging, "And as I've cooperated, I would appreciate any good word to the governor that might persuade her to permit me a visit. Please."

"We can look into that," Kate offers, surprising Liz with her apparent sympathy.

The interview is then terminated. Liz removes her earphones and leans back in her seat with a sigh. Waiting for Denton to be escorted from the building first, Liz leaves the viewing room. She looks to Hastings' office as she passes by, seeing he has closed the door and blinds. She was hoping to have a word, berate him even for being so outrightly biased. But Liz understands how much stress he must be under and keeps walking to the desks where Steve and Kate are sat, rather solemnly, reflecting on the interview.

"What do you think?" Kate asks her as she sees the woman approach.

"About which part?" Liz asks with a humourless chuckle. There was a lot to process from the last few days.

"Do you think we should put a word in about visiting her mum?"

Liz sighs, "She is the only family Denton has. And vice versa. They are close. Very close. It will break both their hearts if they don't get to see eachother one last time, assuming this is the end."

 _And mine_ , Liz thinks.

"Yeah," Kate says, though she still looks unconvinced about the woman.

"It might make her more cooperative?" Liz offers, hoping, by putting it in investigative terms, it will persuade the two officers.

"I'll send the call," Kate says, leaving for her desk.

Liz looks over at Steve, seeing him staring at something on his desktop, contemplative, "You ok?"

He looks up at her, "Yeah, yeah. It's just… you thought a while ago there could be more to this. That there is a chance she could be innocent. Do you still believe that?"

Liz nods, her lips twisting as she admits, "I do think there is a chance, yes. Because there is one."

Steve nods now too, looking back at his computer.

"And you?" Liz asks at his silence, wondering if his opinion had changed. Steve had been so assured of her guilt, even preemptively before they had solid evidence. Yet, in the interview, he had seemed eager to find proof of an affair with Dryden. Did he hope that led to the implication of the DCC instead? Or did he still want to support the Denton narrative?

He scratches his chin, moving his chair aside and gesturing for her to look at his screen. She leans forward, seeing a word document.

_**FLAWS IN THE DENTON CASE:** _

_• Motive_

_• Means_

_• Opportunity_

"I wrote it last night," Steve explains.

Liz takes in a breath, her head hurting a little at all these changing narratives and opinions. That was quite a list of flaws. The whole basis for the case, in fact.

"What changed?" she asks Steve, curious as to where his sudden doubt came from.

"There was a tracker on Jayne Akers' vehicle."

"What?" Liz exclaims.

"MVC kept it quiet. Went to the forensic storage, asked to see it ourselves based on a tip. I know those trackers. Saw plenty in my time at counter-terrorism."

Liz remains quiet, reflecting on what this insinuates. Steve says it clear for her.

"We have been investigating Denton this whole time. But it never mattered what route she took that night," Steve sits forward, leaning his elbows on the desk, "The ambushers were tracking Akers."

Before either of them can continue discussing what this meant or how they felt about it, Dot approaches them.

"We have found something on Aker's flash drive," he informs them.

Steve stands immediately, heading over to Dot's desk to view the information.

Liz excuses herself, ready to head back to the office before Dot calls for her, "You coming?"

Liz frowns, "But… I'm not an investigator."

"Fine, then," Dot shrugs with a small smile, "Fresh eyes are always useful, though."

Liz looks at him, astounded, until he motions her over with a nod of his head. She follows, uncertain but honestly extremely intrigued by whatever new evidence he had found.

Besides, Kate and Steve had shared with her enough information about the case. Kate even insisted she was in on it, having crucial insight into Denton and how she worked.

As she approaches his computer, where Steve and Kate have already taken their seats, Dot pulls up a chair for her from a nearby desk. He waits, a hand on the back of it in a rather chivalrous display, for her to sit down. As she does, she thanks him, before turning to find Steve's eyes on her.

He is frowning, clearly confused as to why she was there. Liz shrugs, not really understanding herself.

Kate does nothing but offer her a smile, somewhat pleased it was not just her who clearly thought Liz valuable to this case. Hastings, who had just appeared behind them, did not appear to have any rejection to it either, just patting his god-daughter on the shoulder in greeting.

Steve's eyes then flit to Dot's, raising his brow questioningly. Dot just shrugs too, almost indifferent if not for the most miniscule hint of a smirk gracing his lips. He turns to the screen, prompting everyone else, including Steve, to do the same.

Dot asks Liz to press the button on the screen, a video beginning to play as she does.

Tommy Hunter appears, holding a camera turned on himself.

" _This bloody thing on or what?_ " the man says, looking directly into the camera, " _We had a deal. Immunity from prosecution. You two-faced bastard. Does that bastard think I won't grass?_ "

" _Which bastard?"_ Another voice, one Liz recognises to be Jayne Akers, says off-camera.

" _They're all at it,"_ Hunter insists _, "You show them this. Then they'll know who they're dealing with."_

" _Police officers?"_

" _Aye,"_ Tommy smirks, " _From the two-faced bastard right down to 'The Caddy'."_

"' _The Caddy'?"_

" _He's been one of us since he was a wee laddie. He's been doing a job on the inside for years and years now."_

" _What are you going to do?"_

" _Oh, you'll find out soon enough. And then it will all come out,"_ Hunter says, his face squared to the camera, " _Unless this immunity is sorted. We had a deal."_

The recording ends.

The five of them share uneasy, uncertain glances with each other.

"Right, that was recorded a week before the ambush," Dot explains to them, "Proves he was stressed about his immunity."

"Who's the two-faced bastard?" Steve asks what is on all of their minds.

Dot asks Liz to press play again, which she does.

"The 9th of August statement, previously mentioned," Dot announces before the recording starts.

Dryden appears on screen, in one of his many press conferences.

" _Resources are incredibly stretched," t_ he man says on the screen to the crowd of reporters, " _Yet certain police forces, and the courts, collude in granting immunity from prosecutors I would describe as 'repugnant offenders'."_

Liz looks up at Hastings, seeing the man watching with an uncomfortable wince. She turns back to the video.

" _Men and women who cost the taxpayer millions of pounds, year on year, while any right-thinking person would demand they face justice for their crimes."_

The video ends, Kate nodding, "'Repugnant offender'. Couldn't have put it better myself."

"Dryden is Tommy's two-faced bastard," Liz states what the evidence suggests. She looks over to Dot who gives her a smile, nodding his head in agreement.

"Dryden turned the screws on Tommy," Steve says, directing it to Hastinsg who had stood quietly behind them.

The older man hums, though his face remains blank as he asks, "What about this other officer, 'The Caddy'?"

"Mind if I look into that, sir?" Dot asks.

"Yes," Hastings nods, approving as he walks away again, "off you go, Dot, thanks."

Dot takes in a breath, slapping his hands on his knees before standing, "Anything else on the files comes up about this 'Caddy', shoot it over to my computer, yeah?"

The two officers nod as he leaves, Kate then leaning over to Steve and Liz, "If Tommy did have anything on Dryden…"

"That's a hell of a motive for Dryden to orchestrate the hit, and keep it from coming out," Steve says, though he still sounds somewhat reluctant.

"Lindsay was set up," Liz says, the two officers, for the first time, having nothing to rebuke her with.

Steve offers her a somewhat apologetic look, as if wishing he had listened to her earlier when she raised concerns about the credibility of the case.

Liz returns a small smile, letting him know she understands that he was just doing his job. Though, her chest does swell at this new revelation. Maybe Dot was right. She was not an investigator, so she had fresh eyes on things. She had been around AC-12 and her friends enough to know the effect investigating can have on you. Hell, Liz even had the training herself.

When you spend your life seeking out corruption, it is difficult to see anything but.

It hardens you.

But sometimes, to see the full picture, you need a little heart, some compassion.

For the first time in a while, Liz allows herself to be proud of that.

"I'll go and look at Denton's phone records," Kate says, standing from her chair, "We need to find proof of this affair."

* * *

A few hours later, Kate calls Liz over as she and Steve head to Hastings' office.

"Could do with a little help on this one," Kate says, knocking on the Superintendent's door.

Liz, not entirely sure what her friend means, follows after the pair as they are called in.

Ted, sitting at his desk, gives her an addled look as she goes to stand out of the way by the window, though does not question why she is there.

Kate walks over to him, handing over some files, "There are numerous calls in Denton's phone records, to and from Deputy Chief Constable Dryden. The last was on the evening of 16th August from Dryden's mobile to hers."

Liz watches curiously as Hastings glances over the files. Her heart beats a little more rapidly, knowing how huge this could be in proving Lindsay's innocence.

"I've got the manager of the hotel confirming that Denton and Dryden were semi-regulars. Double-room, sometimes not even staying the full night," Steve claims, "Next step, we would like you to sign off on requests to access Dryden's phone and financial records, please, sir."

Hastings is quiet for a moment, looking at the files with a curled lip, before saying, "Well, there it is clear as day. The man's an adulterer. Some people, you wonder if they've no shame."

Liz's eyes involuntarily snap to Kate, who seems to be trying her best to act unbothered by the comment.

"Oh, well," Hastings sighs, standing, "One for the morning. Good work, you two."

The three others in the room share bewildered looks. That was quite a change in tone. For the last few days, since the initial implication of Dryden's involvement, the man had been nothing but aggressively defensive of the DCC.

"You sure, sir?" Steve asks, raising a brow, "It's looking like Dryden's involved in the ambush."

"It's looking like no such thing."

Liz bites her tongue to hold back a frustrated huff at her godfather.

"Only that he had an affair with Denton."

Liz watches as the two officers enthusiastically tense shoulder's drop in disappointment.

"One step at a time," Hastings rather patronisingly states.

Kate and Steve share a disheartened glance with one another, acknowledging their superior before heading for the door. Liz hangs back, her eye catching Kate's quickly.

So, this is what Kate had wanted her for.

She waits for the door to close behind her two friends before rounding on the older man.

"You're being selfish."

Hastings sighs at his goddaughter as he sits back in his desk chair. He rubs his forehead, quietly repeating, "I'm being selfish."

"Yes, yes you are," Liz insists, knowing how he repeats things to patronisingly challenge them.

"I am not being selfish," the older man glares at her, his voice beginning to rise at her reprimanding tone.

"No?" Liz folds her arms, belligerently, "How about _proud_ then?"

Hastings rolls his eyes, taking a breath to calm himself as she boldly berates him.

" _Foolish_."

"I am not a fool," he snaps.

"Then stop acting like one."

Hastings huffs at her nerve. The roll of his eyes rouses her further.

"I know what you are going through. I know what a promotion from that man could mean for you. But do you not realise what else is at stake here?"

The way his eyes soften and avoid her gaze tells Liz he does. But she wants to make it clear for the man anyway, not having so far had the chance. If he chose to ignore her and continue acting like a biased, egotistical old man, then, so be it. At least she could sleep at night knowing she tried.

"You knew you had a weak case from the beginning. We all knew it. You could be condemning an innocent woman to a life of nothing. She already has so little and yet, you're making it your prerogative to absolve her of it. And it seems you don't even care. Why? For what? A slight pay-rise?

You are becoming exactly what you should be fighting against, don't you see that? Covering up someone else's wrongdoing for your own personal gain, letting others take the fall. That's not who you are. That's not who you raised me to be."

She seems him shifting to sit slightly straighter at that, finding the courage to look her in the eye as he listens to her continue, "Have you even considered he is hanging this "promotion" over you to manipulate you? To lure you to his side. Because, if that is the case, it is clearly working. Are you really that easily controlled? What happened to the man who, despite all the odds and warnings against it, joined the service at my father's side-"

"Elizabeth," he scolds, a nerve being hit. She continues.

"- because he felt it was the right thing to do? Because he didn't think of himself, but the family he had to provide for and the friend he wanted to defend?-"

"Don't think you can bring your father into this and guilt me," Hastings growls, standing now.

Liz goes on, despite the hurt she feels at him accusing her of doing so, "You're honestly willing to let us all down - Steve, Kate, Lindsay, _me_ \- for _Dryden_?"

"Enough!" Hastings shouts.

Liz bites her tongue this time. She is sure half the office is looking over at them now, trying to see what is happening through the frosted windows.

Hastings seems to realise this too, swallowing down his anger and continuing in a callous tone, "This does not concern you. You are not an investigator. You're not even an _officer_."

Liz flinches. She knew it. She knew he was embarrassed by her, disappointed she failed in that line of work.

"Maybe not," Liz says, though it comes out strangled as her throat has dried, "But I am a counsellor. Lindsay Denton has been falsely accused and imprisoned, at your order. And my client needs me to rectify your mistake."

With that, she turns for the door, slamming it behind her without another look at the man. T

Taking a moment to lean against the closed door and catch her breath, she then looks up to see what feels like the entire office looking at her. Some look confused, the wellbeing officer having just quarrelled with their Superintendent. Others look impressed, especially Dot, no one having spoken against the Boss like that and made it out alive. A couple, Kate and Steve, look sympathetic, knowing what had happened.

Liz almost breaks out in a run for her office, feeling her cheeks blaze at the attention. Shutting her door behind her, she revels in the absence of eyes on her. The woman wipes some stray tears from her cheeks, that she had not known had fallen, and sits before her computer.

Distract herself with work as she usually did when things got on top of her? Sounds good.

If only she could concentrate. Or see through her blurred vision.

She startles at a knock on her door.

"I'm busy," she calls, chiding herself for how blubbery she sounds, "Schedule an appointment."

The door opens anyway, revealing Steve.

Liz sighs, both out of frustration he had ignored her request to leave her alone but also relief he was there.

"You ok?" he asks, softly, closing the door behind him.

"Fantastic," she bites, regretting her tone immediately.

Steve seems to overlook it, knowing she is upset. He moves the seat from the other side of the desk around to sit beside her.

"We've been here before," Liz snickers, sourly. Steve recalls the last and only other time he had seen her cry. That time, at her flat, they had talked about her family and Hastings. It was clearly a sensitive topic for her.

Liz had told herself, after her chagrin about Steve and the nurse, and the possibility of him being so personal and, well, intimate with other women, she would not open up to him so easily again.

But how could she not when he is sitting there looking at her like that? So concerned. So compassionate.

It did not take a word from him for her to start talking.

"I have been through so much with that man," she explains, sniffing as to stop more unwanted tears from making an appearance, "And I owe him so much more. It is so difficult to fight with him like that. It feels wrong."

Steve nods in understanding, watching as her slightly-reddened face begins to clear as she talks.

"But he is being such an _arse_. I can't stand by while he does that to all of you - or Lindsay. Still, I have just gone and given him another reason to be disappointed in me."

The man frowns at his friend's dejected tone. She had brought this up before, and he had assured her that was not the case.

"What did he say?" Steve asks.

Liz rolls her eyes and glares at him, "I am pretty sure you and the rest of the office heard well-enough."

Steve chuckles, making her smile slightly, "Maybe. But, people say things when they are angry. Not at you, though. He's got a lot on his mind right now. As we all do. I know I don't need to tell you that."

Liz knows there must be some truth in it, but fails to see past Hastings' comment about her not being an officer. He had said it so… discouragingly. Then again, perhaps she just heard it that way, being embarrassed about it herself. Even in her current position, she feels she has failed and letting people down.

"I can't let that woman go down for something she didn't do," Liz says, determinedly though laced with guilt, " I shouldn't have judged her. I should have listened to her. That's what I do."

Steve is taken back by her sudden change in tone, though does not question it - feeling relieved Liz is no longer upset, rather resolved.

"So, what are you going to do?" he asks, knowing, despite Denton no longer being Lizzie's responsibility, the woman won't be able to sit by as someone suffers.

* * *

"Lindsay?"

"What are you doing here?" Denton glares over her mother's bed at the woman in the doorway.

"I wanted to check in, see how you are," Liz says, gripping onto her bag rather awkwardly as the two officers who had escorted Denton here stare up at her.

"Well," Denton chuckles, devoid of any amusement, "isn't that kind?"

Liz looks uncomfortably at her shoes as Lindsay turns back to her mother, tenderly stroking her hair.

The carers at reception informed Liz she had a stroke. Just like her own mother.

She can't look.

"I'll be just outside," Liz says, softly, feeling as though she is intruding on something too personal.

Stepping out of the room and into the corridor, she almost doubts why she came at all. She knew Lindsay would not want her here. It was obvious the woman had disdain for her the moment she found correspondence between herself and Kate.

But, no. Liz had made her mind up that duty came before personal struggles.

She would be a hypocrite, otherwise, having brutally scolded Hastings for doing the opposite.

Steve had assured her she was doing the right thing, following her instincts. Had said she went along with his so many times, right or wrong, that he had no right to not follow hers.

Liz hears movement in the room.

"Time," she hears one of the officers declare.

"I thought I could stay?" Denton asks.

Liz looks through the doorway to see the two officers gathering their few belongings and preparing to leave. Lindsay looks up at them from across the bed, deceived.

"Do you know how much a night shift costs?" one of the women says.

"Would love the overtime," the other quips.

"But-" Denton stutters, looking desperately at her mother, "What if she-?"

"You have to leave," one officer insists, "Answering 'yes' or 'no', do you understand?"

Liz watches as Denton gulps. whispering, "Yes."

The two officers begin to make their way out of the door, Liz moving to the side to let them pass. Looking back into the room, she feels her stomach drop at the sight of Denton regretfully saying goodbye to her beloved mother. This could be the last one.

It was too familiar.

Deciding to give Lindsay her space, Liz follows the officers into the foyer.

A moment later, Denton appears, closing the door to her mother's room.

"Can we have a moment?" Liz asks the officers, who shrug, apparently not in as much of a rush as they had made out.

Liz takes a step towards Lindsay, who hovers at her mother's door.

She takes a breath before confessing, "I am sorry, Lindsay."

The woman looks up at her, eyes brimming with tears.

"I judged you. And I am sorry," Liz continues, finally saying what she had wanted to for days, "You can resent me for breaching professionality. I resent myself for it. But you need someone. Now more than ever. Let me be there. Please."

The woman just continues to look at her for a moment, noting how, unlike the last time, she does not shrink under her gaze.

Lindsay nods.

Liz sighs, relieved. She motions for Denton to follow her over to where the officers stand.

"I lied to her," Denton mutters as they walk.

Liz looks at her, heart sore.

"I told her I would come back."

"And I will do my best to make that happen," Liz claims, purposefully.

Denton gives her another studious yet unreadable look as the two officers take her by the arms and lead her away to the van. Liz watches as they open the doors, pushing Denton into the back.

"I'll follow behind you," Liz informs the officers, loud enough so Denton could hear from her confinement in the van.

"If you want," one of them shrugs, following the other to sit in the front.

Liz walks to her own car, sitting behind the wheel and deeply exhaling.

Watching the van pull away from the car park, Liz turns on her engine and follows behind them, heading for the prison.

After a few minutes of driving, Liz thinks to call Steve to tell him Denton seemed to accept her offer of support. He would want to know, seeing as he helped encourage her to offer it. He could also help her think of what to say when they reached the prison. Liz admittedly didn't think she would get this far, thinking Denton likely to refuse any conversation after so openly resenting her.

Pressing a few buttons to turn on the speaker on the car's system that connected to her phone, she dials the familiar number.

It rings. And rings. Liz rolls her eyes after several of them. Typical, Steve Arnott. Never available when you actually want-

A car. A collision. Black.

The only sound on the road is that of her phone speaker, a voice on the end.

" _Lizzie?_ _You there?_ "


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! thank you, as always, to the wonderful people who have read this story so far, especially those of you who have left comments. I love hearing what you think, especially as this is the first LOD fic I have written (or even read longer than a few chapters/with an OC too)! It is, in some ways, a great show to write for and in others, so difficult!
> 
> I had considered Lizzie being kidnapped along with Denton. so, sorry if you assumed that too and are underwhelmed! but I have planned some exciting things with Liz coming up soon with original content between seasons and, without giving anything away, don't want things to get too similar!
> 
> anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Sirens. That's the first thing Liz remembers about waking up. They were loud, so very loud.

Her head hurt - that was the second thing.

Sitting on the back of the ambulance between the open doors, she watches as officers in hi-vis jackets buzz around her, the movements worsening her headache. Why were the jackets so damn bright?

She was unsure how long she had sat there.

Through the blaring of the sirens, she hears a muffled voice call for her, "Lizzie?"

She shakes her head, unable to focus on where the voice was coming from through the sea of officers and responders. It almost sounded as though she were underwater.

"Lizzie?" the voice calls again, sounding a little closer this time.

Liz squints, willing her vision to concentrate despite the throbbing behind her eyes.

She makes out the blurred forms of two people walking towards her, hurriedly. Though unable to make out any detail of appearance, she knows who it must be.

"Steve? Kate?" she croaks, more as a relieved revelation than a call.

As if they brought clarity with them, her vision begins to sharpen, now seeing her two friends striding towards her.

"Christ, Lizzie," Steve mutters, perturbed, as he quickens his pace to reach her.

He had been so worried. Receiving a voiceless call from Liz, to then find out about what had happened. Steve thought Hastings was going to collapse when they received the news.

With Denton and the attackers missing, anything could have happened to her. He even feared what happened with Georgia was happening all over again. But with Liz? He would not know where to being comprehending it. Steve is truthfully relieved to see her alive and responsive. But the closer he gets, the worse she looks.

Her hair is matted, dried blood caked through it on one side. The darkness of it dulled her usual bright red. Her pale skin no longer a gleaming porcelain, but a sickly grey. Her eyes are wide, staring up at him, reddened and disorientated. Crimson stained her lips, where a gash had cut through her lower one. The smear marks surrounding it showed signs of an attempt to clean it, though she still looked beaten. Steve looks down at her arm, which she is cradling against her chest, stroking it almost ritualistically with her other hand.

He wants to help, somehow. But taking her in, he wouldn't know where to start.

"I'm fine," Lizzie insists, weakly, noticing the worried look on his face as he studied her.

She was sure she looked as bad as she felt, if not worse. The shock was still settling in.

"Are the officers alright?" Lizzie then asks, Kate's eyes widening after also having studied her with a wince, "Lindsay? Are they ok?"

The responders had not told her much. Or perhaps they had, and she just could not remember. Until her friends arrived, she hadn't exactly felt... present.

Steve scoffs, sharing an amused yet irritated glance with Kate before looking at Liz, astonished, "Are _they_ ok?"

Lizzie had just been in a vehicle collision, attained distressing injuries and yet was still thinking of other people? He would never understand her incomprehensible selflessness. It bothered him.

"The two officers are being taken to hospital, but were not seriously wounded," Kate explains, seeing the desperation to know in Liz's eyes.

"And Lindsay?" Liz asks, worriedly curious.

Kate and Steve share a glance before the woman reveals, "Denton's missing."

Liz blanches, her head already unbearably aching.

"We think the vehicle that collided with the police van belongs to the same people that performed the ambush and assassinated Hunter," Steve explains, though furrows his brow concernedly as she rubs her forearm, wincing in pain.

"You think she was kidnapped?" Liz asks, believing that to be the most viable explanation.

"Or they were springing her from custody," Kate suggests, not wanting to exclusively consider Denton is innocent of any collaboration.

Liz rests her aching arm on her knees and rubs her sore forehead with her other hand. For the first time since the incident, Liz feels stable enough to consider the scene. She looks over to where the police van lies, overturned and battered. Then to her crushed car, having rammed into the back of it.

She wishes she remembered something, anything, that could help them locate Denton. But one thing she was in her car, driving to the prison and calling Steve, the next she was being pulled out of her crushed vehicle and placed onto a stretcher.

"I'm sorry," Liz squeaks, "I can't remember-"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Steve insists, though a little more stern than he had meant it to be. Lizzie was a victim in this. Yet, of course, she had found a way to blame herself for something.

Kate turns when she hears a car pull up. Hastings emerges, placing his cap on his head and searching the scene, almost frantically. She raises an arm in a wave, catching his attention.

The older man marches over to them, not even glancing at the crime scene around him, entirely focused on his goddaughter.

Hastings sighs, remorsefully, as he is close enough to see her injuries. She looks up at him, a single tear springing out of her eye. It stings.

"Beth?" he asks, softly, "How are you doing?"

Liz lets out a brief chuckle. She knows he is asking about the crash, but she cannot help thinking of their last conversation - or argument, "Been better."

Hastings nods, unsure what to say or do. It would be highly unprofessional for him to embrace her, with so many officers' eyes on them. And he would not want to hurt her in doing so, noticing the blood and cradled arm.

He turns to Kate and Steve instead, "Anything on Denton yet?"

"No, sir."

"Well, get out there and find her," he orders.

"Yes, sir."

"God help us all if we've lost her," he huffs, throwing his hand up helplessly in the air before walking over to speak to a responder.

Kate nods, turning to Liz, "I'm glad you're alright, mate. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, Kate," Liz tries to smile, though her cracked lip forbids it.

Her friend walks away, a job to do. Steve remains standing there, just staring at her.

Liz raises a brow, questioningly, "I said I am fine."

"What did the medics say?" he practically demands.

She sighs, "A minor gash on my head-"

"Doesn't look minor," Steve cannot help but remark, once again finding himself unable to look anywhere but the blood in her hair.

"Head wounds always bleed excessively," Liz says, refraining from rolling her eyes, "A bust lip, a possible fractured arm and one really bad headache."

He looks her over again, trying to convince himself her injuries are as minor as she says.

"I am lucky," Liz shrugs, "Don't think they knew my vehicle was there behind the van when they collided, or who I was. Not sure if I would have made it out, otherwise."

Steve exhales, growling slightly as he does.

"Will they want to interview me?" Liz says, looking beyond him to the Major Violent Crimes unit who had appeared on the scene.

Steve follows her gaze to where DI Hargreaves studies the overturned police van. He grinds his jaw, "No. You need to rest and have your injuries seen to. You're going to the hospital."

"Should I not make a statement? Technically, even if I can't remember, I was present and a victim, so therefore a witness."

"You're going to the hospital," Steve repeats, Liz frowning at his insistent tone.

Part of her is frustrated by his concern, the way he was looking at her making her heart flutter with worry. Just how bad did she look? Although, her heart also fluttered at the idea of him caring for her wellbeing more than the case.

Liz nods, agreeing. Her arm was almost insufferable if not for the contradictory, welcome anaesthetic of shock. She also had no doubt she looked a state, in need of a shower and sleep.

"I'll come with you," Steve says, looking around for a paramedic to ask for them to make a move.

"No, Steve, you need to find Denton," Liz pleads, knowing how important it was to find her, kidnapped or not.

Steve looks at her for a moment, knowing Lizzie is right but feeling wrong leaving her.

"Steve!" Kate suddenly calls over from her car. The pair turn to her, the woman gesturing for him to come with her.

Steve sighs, knowing he has little choice. Liz attempts to send him an encouraging smile through her sore lips, but he just fixates on the cut there.

He looks back up to her eyes, the familiar reassuring glint breaking through the bloodshot. That calms him - slightly.

He knows how much this Denton case now means to Lizzie, to all of them. Steve supposes, in a way, leaving her to look for Lindsay was the only other way to support her right now.

"Alright, but I'll come visit as soon as this is over," Steve assures.

"Thank you," Liz says, giving his upper-arm a friendly squeeze with her good hand. She tries not to flinch in surprise when he puts his own hand over hers, squeezing it back.

Liz holds back a groan as he lets go, immediately missing the warm, comforting sensation. He sends her a small, though not quite convinced, smile before turning away to jog over to Kate's car.

Steve looks back once in the vehicle, Kate driving away, relieved to see Hastings approach Lizzie. She wasn't alone.

"Paramedics said they will be ready to go in five. Let's get you fixed up, eh?" Ted says to her, pulling Liz's attention from the disappearing car.

She follows, taking a seat beside him on the back of an ambulance.

They sit in silence for a moment, neither entirely sure what to say.

They hadn't spoken since their fight. The first Ted had learned of Liz leaving to see Denton was when he received the call about the collision.

Hastings was a proud man, Liz had got that right. Raised in an irish, Catholic household, it was not so easy for him to admit fault or demonstrate accountability. There was not exactly room for feelings. He was not sure where Liz got it from, the ability to openly discuss those pesky things.

No, Ted Hastings was much more a man of actions than words.

He puts his arm around her shoulders, hoping that was enough to assure her they were alright. That he understands and is sorry.

Liz's eyes widen at the contact, not only aware they were in a professional setting but also having been uncertain where things stood between them. Despite that, she almost immediately melts into his familiar, paternal warmth, all bad-feelings forgotten as she rests her head on his shoulder.

The pair sit like that, watching the bustle of officers try to decipher the chaos surrounding them, until the paramedics declare it is time to go.

* * *

"Steve!" Liz smiles wide, her lip having healed slightly since being admitted to the hospital two days ago.

She had come downstairs on her way out of the building, rejoicing in her newfound freedom. Liz had found it near-impossible to sit still in that bed all by herself. Hastings had stayed with her for the majority of the first night, making sure she was settled. Her left fore-arm was currently in a cast, not broken but needing a push in the right direction toward healing fully. There were two stitches on the left side of her hairline. Beside that, and a remaining awful headache, Liz felt fine. Good, even.

Though, she had been a little disheartened her friend had not come to see her yesterday. She was sure he had his reasons, what with the search for Denton, but she found it unbearable not having anyone to update her on the situation.

Yet, here he was now. Sat in a waiting room just below her ward. He must have come to see her! Maybe there was a mix-up at reception and they misinformed him where she was.

He turns to her, eyes widening in surprise and relief to see her look so spritely, especially in comparison to how he had left her two days ago, "Lizzie! How are you?"

"Good, yeah," she says, lifting her forearm so he could see the cast more clearly, "Should be healed in a week or so. Told you, nothing to worry about."

He smiles, visibly alleviated of concern by hearing that and seeing her smile at him again.

"I'm upstairs, or was. They just discharged me. I could come back to the office with you if you'd like, would be good to see everyone."

"Oh," Steve says, confusing Liz with the way he shifts uncomfortably, "Actually, I uh-"

Liz's eye is caught by someone emerging from a room behind them. She frowns, careful not to distort her face too much, wary of the stitches.

"Lindsay?"

The woman looks back at her, eyes flitting between Liz and Steve. She walks over, joining them. Steve looks at his feet, awkwardly.

"They found you then?" Liz asks, Steve feeling guilty for the slight dejection in her tone, "Are you alright?"

Lindsay nods, timidly, "You?"

Liz gestures to her arm again, though this time unenthusiastically, "Yeah, not bad."

She thought there was a chance Denton would open up to her again. Maybe there still was. But, after the crash, it seems Lindsay was much more wary of her again, judging by the studious glare Liz was receiving.

Steve clears his throat, struggling to look at Liz and turning to the other woman, "Officers are outside, I'll take you to them."

Lindsay nods again, beginning to walk down the corridor that led to the hospital's exit.

"Kate is upstairs, one of the ambushers is in a critical condition," Steve informs Liz as he passes to walk beside Denton, "I'll explain everything."

You'd better, Liz thinks bitterly as she watches the pair walk away.

As she walks upstairs to find Kate, Liz wonders what could have happened with Denton and the attackers after the collision. Was she the reason one of the men was in here? She would certainly be capable. But what was the circumstance? Had they kidnapped her, as she assumed before?

And what was Steve doing taking her to an appointment? Was that an order? Or did he choose not to visit, instead prioritise Denton over her?

Liz scorns herself not to be angry at him before knowing the full story.

But her gut twists. Something was not right.

"Liz," Kate greets with a friendly smile as the woman enters the ward.

She is standing outside one of the rooms, looking through the window at whoever is inside. Liz joins her, seeing an asian man hooked up to various tubes and wires, his legs and arms in casts.

"You alright?" Kate asks, both out of concern for her injuries and the distracted look on her friend's face.

"Uh, yeah," Liz answers, "Saw Steve downstairs. With Denton."

Kate folds her arms, assuming she is confused, and perhaps disappointed he was not there for her, "She's under arrest for escaping lawful custody."

Liz takes in a breath, somewhat relieved to hear that Steve could be escorting her out of duty, "She wasn't kidnapped?"

"She says so. Steve seems to believe it too. Convinced, actually," Kate huffs, herself unsure.

Liz frowns at that, "What happened?"

"Got a call of a sighting, turns out it was Denton herself when we put it through," Kate explains, indicating with her head to the man in the hospital bed, "Sent us a recording of Manish Prasad confessing to the ambush and to the other guy, Cole, being the one who kiled DC Trotman."

Liz gulps as she listens, thinking sadly of Georgia. So much had happened since, it was almost as though she had been forgotten.

"We triangulated the phone's location, but Denton was gone," Kate continues, "Cole was dead, Prasad squashed between a car and a wall. I wanted to stay with him, be the first face he sees when he wakes up so we can get a statement and arrest him. Steve thought he knew where Denton would be, so left."

"The care home?" Liz assumes.

"Yeah," Kate says, unsurprised she had been able to work it out too, "Her mother has passed. Steve brought her back to the office, we took her clothes as evidence, officially charged her again. Placed her under custody in a random station with a false ID. And here we are."

"So why is Steve here, at her appointment?" Liz cannot help but ask. Surely, if she was in custody again, it was not his responsibility as an investigator to escort her around?

"Think she said some things to him when he drove her back to us," Kate admits, "Got to him, somehow."

"You think he's doing it out of sympathy?"

"Seems convinced she's innocent. I know he was warming to it before, but now he's certain. Even argued to Hastings that Prasad's declaration is definitive proof of it."

Liz sighs. Yes, she believed Denton to be innocent too. After everything, there was still no evidence directly linking her to organising the ambush or any of the events following. But, even Liz had to admit, set up or not, and coincidental or not, there were so many things implicating her that could not be ignored. Steve had once been so assured of her guilt, he refused to consider the clear possibility she was innocent. That has changed. Now, it seems he is willing to dispute any claim against her. Why?

Lindsay Denton was not someone any of them should underestimate.

Steve was an investigator. A Detective Sergeant. Impartiality was the first rule, just as it was with her line of work. This was all getting too… personal.

"Do you think Prasad could be 'the Caddy'?" Liz asks, wondering if that is an angle Kate wants to explore.

"Possibly," the other woman sighs.

"Don't you want to go home, see Mark and Josh?" Liz says, innocently wondering why the woman was devoting so much time to sitting in this hospital waiting for the suspect to wake up.

Kate hesitates, eyes fixated on the man in the hospital bed as to avoid Liz's curious gaze.

Just then, they turn at hearing a door along the corridor open and close. Steve joins them, looking through the glass at the suspect, "How is he?"

"Stable," Kate says, "When he talks, we'll know the truth."

"He's already talked," Steve rebukes, causing the two women to look over at him, confused.

"Under extreme duress," Kate disputes, clearly referring to Denton using force to get his confession. That's why he was unconscious in a hospital bed.

Steve looks back at the man in the bed, face blank.

"Have you told Lindsay he's alive?" Kate asks him.

"No."

"Good."

Liz assumes Denton recorded his confession as a dying declaration, assuming his injuries would finish him off. Was she capable of such violence? She was aggressive and accused of it before, but to the point of murder?

Though, Liz supposes, if the woman was kidnapped it could be classed as self-defence. They were all capable of it, in the end.

"Hastings said you should head off home," Steve claims, Liz unsure if he is pointing that at her or Kate, "I'll stay tonight."

"I want to say," Kate says, adamantly.

"I don't have a car," Liz admits, quietly remorsing for her now-crushed vehicle.

Kate, knowing Steve was driven here in the van with Denton, unfolds her arms, relenting, "Fine, I'll go. Liz, I can give you a lift?"

"Oh, but my flat is in the opposite direction to your house from here," Liz goes to argue, but is cut off by Kate's dismissive wave.

"Don't worry about it," Kate says, collecting her jacket and bag from a nearby chair.

"I'll call if there is any change," Steve says, watching them both prepare to leave.

Kate thanks him, still rather reluctant to go but knows Liz should be taken home to get some rest.

"Goodnight, Steve," Liz says, walking away from him.

"Night," she hears him call back.

Walking across the hospital car park to Kate's car, Liz lets out a breath, relieved she wouldn't have to spend an awkward car journey with Steve, conflicted whether to ask him about Denton or to mind her business.

Liz opens the passenger door, sitting in the car seat beside Kate who throws her bag into the back. Looking behind her to where the bag had fallen, Liz sees several black bags piled on the backseat and boot. Sitting up to peer into one, curious, she sees they are full of what looks like clothes.

Liz turns to Kate with a questioning look, though hesitates to ask, seeing Kate's jaw clench, eyes determinedly fixated on the road as she pulls away from the hospital. Why was she embarrassed?

The rest of the journey continues in silence, both women processing all that has happened in the last few weeks and anticipating what was yet to come.

* * *

"Hey! What's up?" Liz asks, having received a call from Steve late the next evening.

"Come outside," he instructs, Liz noting a humoured tone to his voice through the phone, "I have something to show you."

With that, he hangs up. LIz looks at her phone for a moment, bewildered, before grabbing her hoodie and stepping outside her apartment building. Through the window of the main doors, she sees Steve leaning against his car, looking at something inside it. Intrigued, she walks outside, casually throwing her hoodie over her head.

"Everything ok?" Liz asks, alerting him she was there. He looks up, closing the door slightly and positioning himself so that his body blocks her view of whatever is in his backseat.

"You alright?" he asks, ignoring her question.

"Confused," she admits, hoping that would prompt him to explain.

"How's the arm?"

"Fine, yeah," Liz says, swallowing down a wince as it throbbed. It was funny, it didn't hurt until someone brought her attention to it, "What did you want to show me?"

Was it something to do with the case? Or some _one_? Oh, she swears to God, if it is Denton making another unexpected house call-

Steve stands to the side, opening his car door wider for her to look inside. It was a box.

"What is that?" Liz says, peering in but not able to make out any indication of what it contained.

Steve smirks, gesturing for her to come closer. She does, though wary.

That's when she hears it, a _purr_.

Liz's eyes snap to Steve's, "Is there an animal in there? Why do you have an animal on your back seat?"

Steve chuckles, amused at her confusion, reaching around Lizzie to pull out the box by its handle. He holds it up in front of her with both arms, allowing her to peer inside.

Looking through one of the air holes, Liz sees what is inside.

"A cat!" she exclaims, the animal making another purr as if to confirm it itself, "Why do you, Steve Arnott, have a cat? I thought you were allergic?"

Liz frowns at his strange choice in pet. It was adorable, of course. Liz couldn't help but grin down at the gorgeous creature. It has such gorgeous azure eyes, that were staring dubiously up at its coat was beautiful. Long-haired, grey and so fluffy! She feels the urge to reach in and stroke it. Though, she is distracted by Steve, who just laughs, also looking down at the living furball in the box.

"I sneezed several times on my way over here," Steve chuckles.

"And why did you bring it over here?" Liz asks, still confused by the whole interaction. She looks down into the box again as she waits for him to explain himself, finding herself unable to stop grinning at the animal.

"She's yours."

Steve smiles endearingly at the woman as she looks up at him, eyes wide and baffled. He had anticipated that reaction, waited impatiently all day to see it. He was not disappointed.

"What?" she asks, quietly, unable to look away from his face as she searched for some sign of a joke.

"She's yours," he repeats, Liz surprised by the sincerity in his eyes, "If you want her."

Liz stutters, her gaze flicking erratically between the man in front of her and the cat, "Well, where- who- why?"

Steve shrugs, still beaming at her, "She was being sent to the shelter. I remember you said before you had a cat as a kid, how much you loved it. Thought it would be better off with you."

If her jaw hadn't dropped already, it did then.

Not only was she so shocked that the man had randomly shown up at her house randomly offering her a random cat, but that he had remembered such a small detail about her.

It was true, Liz had briefly mentioned her childhood pet, when talking about her mother's deteriorating health. The poor woman had left the back door open, the animal escaping and subsequently then hit by a car. Her cat's death had bothered her more than it would most, more than she thought it would. But, she supposed as she got older, it was the first real loss she had ever experienced. It was strange, but that cat was the first time she truly grieved. Liz was only an infant when her father was killed. She often struggled to mourn a man she never met. She loved him, of course, but was more saddened by the impact his death had on those around her, particularly her mother and Ted, than herself. Not that Steve knew any of that. Still, the fact he remembered meant more to her because of it.

But did she have the time to commit to looking after a cat? Especially one as beautiful and in need of grooming as this one? Sure, cats were pretty easy animals, doing most things for themselves. However, she would feel terrible leaving this one at home alone for the majority of the week. Then there was the costs to consider; feeding, grooming, equipment.

Then again, she thinks, it is only her in the apartment. It is not like she has a parent or partner to care for, or a family to feed. It can be lonely, actually. Very lonely.

Everyone else has someone else. Even their flawed relationships were more than what she had. Ted had Roisin (despite the money troubles), Kate had Mark (besides the affair), and Steve had… well, whatever woman he wanted whenever he wanted, apparently.

Maybe some company, even that of a moving ball of fur, would be good for her.

She reaches out her arms, Steve's grin widening as he realises this is her accepting the animal into her care.

"Can you manage it?" Steve asks, looking to her recently fractured forearm, which was no longer in a cast.

"They took the cast off two days ago, I am fine now," Liz assures him, though admittedly does feel a slight ache every now and then.

Liz has to bend her knees to support the new weight in her arms. Steve keeps his hands on the box for a moment while she steadies herself. Standing straight once again, gripping tightly to the box, Liz looks down at the creature, smiling fondly at it. It peers up at her with bright blue eyes, and then "meow!"

Steve and Liz share an affectionate laugh at the noise, her looking at him gratefully, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he smiles, eyes glistening as he watches her so tenderly look at her new pet.

"Would you like to come in?" she offers.

"Uh, yeah," he says, closing his car door and locking the vehicle, "Only for a bit though. Work tomorrow."

Liz groans as they head towards the building, "That would be nice."

Hastings had requested she be put on rest leave for a week. To recover, he said. Relax.

A week left alone with her thoughts? Liz couldn't think of anything less relaxing.

But she had managed it. Just about. Only one more day and she could be back sifting through her boring emails and listening to clients drone on about all their mundane problems. She had missed it.

Liz wishes she had said something to Ted, argued about it. But her godfather said something about 'warning' her, just like he used to do when she was a kid. Liz was embarrassed that the tone still worked wonders on her.

Steve scoffs, holding open the door for her to pass through with the box, following after the woman to her flat.

Reaching the closed door, she hesitates, "Uh, Steve?"

He hums.

"Could you get my keys, please?"

Steve looks at her, holding the heavy box and looking up at him, her cheeks confusingly flushed.

"Sure, where are they?"

She swallows, "My pocket."

_Ah._

Looking down at her hoodie, he sees the outline of something poking through the material. He nods, taking a moment to steel himself and not pretend this was as awkward as it, for someone reason, was.

He steps closer to her, Liz keeping her eyes trained on the box in her hands as to avoid his gaze. She also tries to ignore the way she can feel his warm fingers on her stomach through two-layers of clothing.

Steve slowly grips onto the keys, pulling them carefully out of the pocket as to not startle her with the new contact.

Once it is over, and the two can take a breath, Steve turns to her door and opens it for her, once again holding it open for her to pass.

Liz places the box on the floor in the middle of the flat, feeling her arm ache as a result of the effort. After closing the door and placing her keys on the countertop, Steve joins her in the living space, taking a seat on her sofa.

She turns to him, eyes eager, as if asking permission to open it. It reminds him of a child on Christmas day. He nods, encouragingly, leaning forward to get a better look at her reaction.

Liz slowly opens the lid of the box, the fluffy creature inside 'meowing' up at her, curiously. Liz holds back a squeal as she reaches in, careful not to strain her arm, and feels the soft fur between her fingers. Lifting the cat gently out of the box, she cradles it affectionately against her chest.

"Hello," Liz greets the cat as it stares up at her.

It meows back. Liz and Steve share an amused glance.

Liz uses her good arm to stroke behind its ear, the cat immediately sinking further into her chest, letting out several soft ' _puuuurrs_ ' as she does. Liz feels herself melt too.

Steve was not surprised the cat had trusted her so quickly. It was the same as himself, he supposes, last year. There was something Liz possessed like no one else he knew, to draw people in (and cats too, apparently). But he couldn't put his finger on it. 'Kindness' seemed too mundane, too underwhelming of a word to describe it.

"Does she have a name?" she asks him.

"Uh," Steve stutters, trying to think of something to say to cover up from Liz the truth of where the cat came from, "No, the Shelter didn't have time to name it yet."

"Well, that won't do," Liz says, pouting at the cat and speaking in a higher-pitched voice like it were a child, "What should we call you, eh?"

Steve smiles at that, "What was your old cat called?"

Liz looks back at him, eyes swimming reminiscently, "Thomas O'Malley."

Steve frowns, having heard the name before, "From ' _Aristocats_ '?"

"I don't know why I am surprised you know that," Liz grins, impressed.

"Why?"

"Because you don't seem to be the type of man who watched that kind of thing growing up-"

"No," he laughs, "I mean, why that name?"

"Well," Liz thinks for a moment, not ever having been asked, "Tom was an old, brownish-orange cat. Strode around like he owned the place. Much like the cartoon. And my father's name was O'Malley. Seemed fitting."

Steve nods, understanding, "So what about her? Any ideas for a name?"

Liz hums, never having considered getting another pet and thus having no clue what to call her, "My mother always said if my father hadn't insisted on calling me Elizabeth, she would have chosen Saoirse."

"Saoirse," Steve repeats, trying it for himself.

"Apparently dad insisted it was too complicated, what with the spelling and that. Didn't want to make things difficult for me like most Irish parents did," Liz smirks.

"Sounds perfect," Steve agrees.

Liz looks down at the cat in her arms. _Saoirse_. Yes, that would do.

"Would you like to stroke her?" Lizzie asks Steve then.

Steve nods, pushing himself off the sofa and onto the floor beside her, crossing his legs for the first time since he was a young boy. He reaches his hand over, as gently as he can, and pats the cat on the head.

It hisses.

Steve retracts his hand, quickly, his brow furrowing. Liz laughs between shushing the cat to calm it.

"I said 'stroke' not 'slap'," she teases, "Here."

She reaches out for his hand with her good one, wrapping her fingers over his own. Steve only watches as Lizzie pulls his hand over to the cat's head, delicately pressing his fingers to the spot behind its ear. She grips onto his fingers slightly tighter, moving them slowly along the animal's back.

Steve is unsure if the softness against his skin is the cat or the woman beside him. He studies her, watching Lizzie's eyes fondly follow the movement of their entwined hands.

He notes, thankfully, how much healthier she looks now, compared to when he saw her at the collision scene a week ago. Her warm, radiating glow he has finally returned to her complexion. Her eyes were no longer dazed and bloodshot, but pleasantly grounded in this moment. The brightness of her hair not stained the red of blood, light brought back to the dullness.

Steve regrets not visiting her more. The guilt he felt finding her so happy to see him at the hospital, only to realise he had not come for her, had been weighing him down since. But with everything going on with the Denton case, time kept getting away from him. Still, he was just grateful to see her as she was now; calm, peaceful, happy.

She looks up at him, then, unable to feel his fingers actively moving at their own accord. Steve realises, with the tips of his ears beginning to burn, how intently he had been studying her, completely distracted from the animal.

Liz is unsure why he was looking at her like that; wide-eyed and unreadable. Though, judging by Steve's embarrassed reaction to being caught, she decides against asking to spare him.

Maybe he pitied her. What if he knows how lonely she feels, and that's why he got her this cat? No, that must be a reach. You don't go buying people pets when you feel sorry for them. You invite them out or send them a text or something.

So what was on his mind? Why had he done this?

"Steve," she begins, recapturing his attention from where he had looked away to the floor, "Where did this cat come from?"

She watches as Steve hesitates, her stomach twisting uneasily. There was something he was hiding.

"The shelter," Steve offers, "Like I said."

"And where did she come from before the shelter?" Liz raises her brows, a sharp pain shooting through her forehead as she does. Damn, she forgot the stitches were still healing.

He says nothing.

Lizzie's mind races for a reason for his silence. What did he not want her to know? Who did they know who owned a cat? Or had owned a-

"Is this Lindsay Denton's cat?" Liz gasps, almost dropping it from her arms at the revelation, "Is this Bella?"

Steve looks at her, eyes apologetic, "They took it in when doing forensics on her flat. She was deemed incapable of keeping it."

Lizzie just looks down at the creature in her arms, knowing from her meetings with the woman how much Denton was devoted to this cat.

Maybe Steve did think her lonely, then. Just as Denton was. Even Liz had to admit, the parallels were striking. A dead father, mother passing of a stroke, living alone in their flat - hell, they now even looked after the same cat. It had crossed her mind fleetingly a few times before that was why she felt so connected to the woman. That was what drew her in. Not the challenge of working her out, but the familiarity of it.

"I just thought it would make you happy, after everything," Steve confesses with a sigh. It was true. That was his only intention. But even that, he messed up, judging by the miserable expression Liz currently held.

Liz's heart pangs for the man, seeing the disappointment he holds for himself then. His shoulders slag, and he rubs his hands nervously against the denim on his thighs.

Steve was only looking out for her, Liz knows that. But she was letting her good old friend Self-Sabotage ruin it for the both of them. This is what she wanted, wasn't it? Someone looking out for her, being a friend. For once, offering as much back to her as she gave.

Maybe, she was looking at this wrong. While there were similarities between her and Denton, there was one thing Liz had the other woman did not. Friends.

Drowning out the whining of her self-loathing and looking at her life objectively, in this moment, things were good. She had people. Hastings, Kate, Steve - the man sat right beside her, having gifted her a cat!

Who did Denton have?

Liz was not the one to pity.

She smiles at the kind, simplicity of his reasoning, compared to her cruel overthinking.

"Thank you," she says, willing Steve to look at her.

He does, seeing the sincerity in her gaze.

"This is one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me," Liz admits, now believing that to be true.

"Uh," Steve says, swallowing in relief, "You're welcome."

The two share a smile, both assuring the other things were alright.

"Speaking of," Liz begins, refocusing on stroking the cat against her chest, "any news on Denton?"

Steve sighs, "She has been granted bail."

Liz nods, neither shocked nor comforted by the decision, "What does that mean for you?"

The man shakes his head, "Not sure yet. Prasad is waking up, so we will see what he has to say."

Liz hums.

"I should go," Steve suddenly says, standing from the floor, "I told Kate I would be at the hospital early for his interrogation."

Liz lifts the cat from her chest and places it gently on the floor. It gives her another meow, before jumping up onto the sofa and already making itself at home.

"You sure? You're welcome to stay for a drink or something," Liz offers, admittedly enjoying the company after days alone.

Part of her was also curious to question him on his opinion of Denton, after the hospital and what Kate had said.

Steve considers the invite but decides against it, "That's alright. You shouldn't be drinking on your meds, anyway."

Liz rolls her eyes, hitting him playfully on the arm as she passes to lead the way to the door.

Steve steps out, turning back to her before fully leaving the building, "You'll be back soon?"

"One more day," Liz teasingly smiles, "Why, you miss me, Arnott?"

"Yes," he states, humourless, just gazing at her.

Liz shifts her weight from one foot to the other in her doorway, unsure how to respond to that. She had missed him too, "Thank you, again."

"Really, it's no problem," he politely smiles back, giving her a wave as he turns for the door, "Goodnight, Lizzie."

"Night, Steve."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suffered from some serious writer's doubt the last few chapters, but I really hope you are all enjoying this so far! please let me know what you think about Liz, my portrayal of the other characters and plot choices - I really need the encouragement or constructive criticism to keep me going!

"Ted!" Liz calls, seeing her godfather leave the interview room and approach where she stood in the branch reception.

"What are you doing here?" he asks. knowing he instructed her to stay away from work. The older man had only been able to see Liz onces since leaving her at the hospital over a week ago. They had called, but he was relieved to see her here looking well, the cast and stitches now gone.

"Steve sent me a text, told me Dryden has been arrested," she explains, looking apologetically up at the older man, "I don't have appointments at this station, so they wouldn't let me in the building."

Hastings sighs, "You should be resting."

"I have been for over a week, now. I am fine," she insists, having caved the first time he demanded she stay away from work. Not this time. Liz had been bored out of her mind. Her cat, Saoirse had been a welcome distraction from her thoughts over the last two nights. But she wanted to get stuck back in!

Hastings shakes his head, knowing she was likely downplaying some of her injuries. But she could be as stubborn as him, sometimes.

"Did he confess to the affair?" Liz asks, noticing the man looking around uncomfortably.

"Yes," Hastings informs her, voice quiet.

Liz knows this must be difficult for him, after everything. But she is glad he is finally confronting the truth and the possibility of Dryden's involvement in the ambush or setting up Lindsay. Maybe he had listened.

"What else did he say?"

Before Hastings can answer, Steve appears, walking over to them.

He greets Liz with a smile, her returning it easily.

"How'd it go?" she asks the younger man.

"Should have seen his face when we pulled out those Kirk photos," he responds, smirking a little.

"Kirk photos?" Liz asks, not aware of what he is referring to, "As in Carly Kirk?"

"We found images on Prasad's laptop recovered from his car," Steve explains, "Photos of Dryden in his car with Carly on the 16th, then photos of what appears to be her mutilated corpse at the industrial unit on the 18th."

 _Christ_.

"In his car?"

Steve looks at her, awkwardly. Liz gets the idea.

"Oh."

_Christ!_

"I've got a call to the Crown Prosecutor to make," Ted mutters, "Glad to see you're better, Beth."

Hastings then excuses himself, turning back for the corridor he had appeared from, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation.

"But surely the images could implicate Dryden was being blackmailed, not giving Prasad and Cole orders," Liz says, questioningly.

"Which is why we called him in. He refused to come willingly, so we arrested him," Steve explains with a shrug.

"And he denies any involvement with Prasad?"

"Yeah. But we have them on a CCTV at an event together. With Carly Kirk serving as a waitress that night. "

Liz shakes her head in disgust. She knew from Kate that Prasad was grooming Carly, "Is it possible Dryden was using Prasad to meet young girls for sex?"

"Yes, but again he denies any association," Steve sighs, "His clothes from the photos are missing too, and Dryden had his car valeted and steamed the next day. Said it was to get rid of Carly's perfume to hide it from his wife."

"So," Liz says, piecing all this new information together, "If Dryden was seen with Kirk, it is possible Denton did have a personal motive to look into her case?"

Steve hums, agreeing, "Yeah. She lied."

Liz deflates slightly, having hoped once she made her mind up that Denton was innocent that narrative would continue. It seems she still did not understand the woman.

"Dryden says she was following him that day. Saw the two together," Steve continues, "That's why he was on her phone records."

"Did you bring up the speeding ticket?"

"Yeah, he denies he was taking the fall for an alibi. Though, that was after many requests to end the interview before answering."

Liz nods, that was suspicious.

"He claims Denton is jealous and out to get him for it. Using us to get revenge," Steve scoffs.

"You don't think that's a possibility?" Liz asks, having wanted to know where he currently stands on Denton's guilt since the hospital.

Steve looks to the interview room door for a moment, then back to her, "I don't know."

Liz is relieved to hear it.

Steve lowers his voice and pulls her over to the side, further away from the people at reception, "Denton had a terminated pregnancy last May."

Liz groans, realising the personal gravity of this affair, "She never mentioned it. How do you know?"

"I don't think she has mentioned it to anyone. I even doubt Dryden knows," Steve says, "I requested her medical records after the hospital visit."

"Why were you there, anyway?" Liz asks, eager to know.

"Denton's burns needed seeing too, and some other minor injuries she received in the crash and kidnap."

"Yes, but why were _you_ there?"

Steve's mouth twists, knowing Lizzie had probably wanted to ask from the moment she saw them together, "I want her to trust me."

Liz frowns, "Trust you?"

"If she opens up to me, we can get to the bottom of this," Steve says, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

But 'simple' was one thing Lindsay Denton and this case was not.

"You said it yourself, she needs someone to listen," he shrugs.

Liz just glowers at him for a moment. That was _her_ role in all this, wasn't it? Did Steve think she hadn't been doing a good enough job at it?

She had felt privileged to be included on the case, actually felt like one of the team to an extent. Liz knew it was not her place, but AC-12 had been more than accommodating when sharing their insight on Denton in return for her own. Hastings had been the one to assign her to Lindsay, Kate had been updating her on their progress every step of the way and asked for her opinion numerous times, even Dot had made a point of inviting her to study evidence. Hell, Denton had asked her to be present at the interviews and accused her of being more involved in their investigation than she actually was.

Sure, Steve had told her plenty about the case as it happened. But it felt as if he was trying to block her out of it now. Instead, deciding, as always, he knew best.

What could he not see in her that the others could?

 _No_ , Liz tells herself, _you're overthinking it again_. _Stop overthinking this man's intentions._

"Denton doesn't trust anyone," Liz says, wary, unsettled by the nonchalant assurity on Steve's face.

"Well, we'll see," Steve says, refusing to let Lizzie's uncertain tone waver him from his decision, "Said I would be her escort to her mother's funeral in two days. She asked me to ask you, too."

"Me?" Liz exclaims, having thought Denton had closed her out again, "Why would she want me to be there?"

Steve shrugs, not thinking anything of it, "It would really help me out, if you came. Makes it look like I'm making things happen for her."

Lizzie's frown does not waver. Why would Denton want her at the funeral if Steve was acting like her new best friend? Lindsay had seemed cold to her again during their brief encounter at the hospital. Even before the collision happened, at the nursing home, Lindsay had not been pleased to see her, likely only opening up a little as Liz offered brief comfort about her mother.

Of course, Denton could have forgiven her. But nothing was ever straightforward with that woman. There had to be an ulterior motive, as there always seemed to be. Her performance of weakness in her first AC-12 interview, alleged beating of her neighbour, humiliating the anticorruption team, everything with Dryden, taking on the Carly Kirk case, the possibility she set up Dryden setting her up out of jealousy, - it was all so complex.

Just as when Denton had invited her to her interviews, Liz could not understand a motive. At first, she had thought she was an accessory to Lindsay's performance of a weak, grief-stricken victim, what with the hand-holding and tears. But when she had turned up at Liz's door, demanding she be present as she humiliated the rest of the team but not actually Liz herself - it made no sense. And that glare Liz had received when she left the room, that smirk. It made her think, what did Denton have against _her_? That question was yet to be answered.

Denton was always one step ahead, guilty or not. She had known Kate was undercover, lured and beat the woman for it. Saw right through Kate's deception. Who was to say she would not do the same with Steve? He had much less performance training than his colleague, so why did he believe he would be more successful? Steve needed to be careful.

Lindsay Denton may be innocent of the ambush, but they knew what she was already capable of. Who knew what else?

"Just, don't underestimate her," Liz warns him.

"I'm not," Steve asserts, though Lizzie continues to look at him unconvinced.

"So, what exactly are you charging Dryden with?" she asks, wondering since Hastings left to make the call.

"Murder, conspiracy to murder, perverting the course of justice and sexual activity with a child," Steve lists.

"He won't like that," Liz thinks aloud.

Steve shakes his head in agreement, "I should go back in. I think Hastings wants to do a debriefing as we send Dryden off. How's Saoirse, by the way?"

"Oh, good, yeah," Liz smiles, thinking of her new cat, "Settling in really well, already acting like she owns the place."

"Good. So, I'll see you at the funeral?" he asks, looking at her hopefully.

"Yeah," she surrenders, if only to keep an eye on him with that woman, "See you there."

"Great, I'll text you the details," he says, smiling at her before walking away down the corridor.

Liz rubs at the ache on her forehead as she watches Steve disappear around a corner, careful not to irritate the spot where her stitches had been.

* * *

She shivers as the coffin is lowered into the ground. It is raining. And cold. And Denton is standing way too close to Steve.

Liz stood a few feet behind the rest of the small crowd gathered around the grave, feeling intrusive. She was still unsure why she was there. Denton had pretty much ignored her the entire time since she arrived. She had, of course, approached the woman to offer her condolences and ask how she was getting on. 'Fine' was all the woman had replied, turning to walk into the chapel. Steve had offered her an apologetic glance before following after the woman, not having left her side since.

"We therefore commit her body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life," the priest recites.

Liz feels her throat close up, dry. She wonders for a moment if Mrs Denton's death was getting to her, reminding her too much of burying her own mother when she was younger.

Or perhaps it was the way Lindsay's hand had enclosed around Steve's.

He looks over his shoulder at her, briefly. Liz looks away, down to the grave, that nauseating heat rising from her stomach to chest. She trusted Steve, of course she did - but this was a bad idea.

As the grave begins to be filled with dirt, Liz watches as several of those in attendance turn away and walk to their cars. That was something she had noticed, how none of Lindsay's mother's relatives and friends had made any attempt to comfort her, or even speak to her besides the initial 'sorry for your losses'. No, only Steve had offered her any sympathy.

As the others leave, Lindsay turns to her, sending a signature blank stare. Liz glares back, refusing to let the woman intimidate her as she had done so many times before. Quirking a brow slightly at her newfound backbone, Dienton returns her gaze to her mother's buried coffin.

Steve says something to her, letting go of her hand and heading over to Liz. She sends him a glower, knowing this was not the place to warn him (once again) about the dangerous game he was playing with Denton, fearing it would blow up in his face. He just sighs, sending her a nod as he passes to indicate it was time to go.

Liz waits for Lindsay to leave the grave and follow Steve before walking behind her, as if wanting to keep a wary eye on the woman when around him. As they approach Steve's car, Steve opening his car door for LIndsay, Liz is uncertain what to do next. He had asked her to make herself scarce after the ceremony, wanting to drive Denton home himself and play out his plan. Liz did not mind walking back home herself, in fact, knew she would enjoy the solitude to think over everything. But, she struggled to find a good excuse to leave despite the twisting of her gut.

"I should go," Liz says awkwardly, wrapping her coat around her further to block out the cold wind, "Need to buy some food for my cat."

"You have a cat?" Denton asks, the first time she has said more than a word to the other woman the entire afternoon.

Liz blanches, her eyes lifting nervously to Steve, who looks at her wide-eyed, as she realises her mistake at choosing such a poor, last-minute excuse, "Uh, yeah. And she needs feeding. Once again, I really am sorry for your loss. Let me know if you need an appointment or anything."

The woman eyes her suspiciously.

"Goodbye," Liz offers a smile wave and leaves, hurriedly.

She sighs as she hears Steve's car engine start and the car pull away behind her. She hopes Steve knows what he is doing.

All Liz had wanted throughout the funeral was to get out of this cold and home to her cat for cuddles. But even that felt strange, now.

This was all a mess.

* * *

"Will you sit in on this one?" Kate asks, ignoring the way her friend rolls her eyes, "No representative wants to take her on."

"For good reason," Liz scoffs.

"I thought you wanted to have her back as a client?"

"I did. Or I thought I did," Liz frowns, not really sure where she stands on it now or why her opinion has even changed again, "But things are just so complicated."

"Exactly, which is why we really need your help on this," Kate pleads, standing in Liz's office doorway with her arms folded.

"How will me being there help anything?"

"Steve doesn't know," Kate says, huffing.

"Why? What does that have to do with me?"

"I know you know what he is up to," Kate rolls her eyes, "His bullshit plan to get close to her."

"You think he is getting too close. That she is planning something again," Liz says, having worried about the same too.

"Exactly."

That was not what she wanted to hear. Liz sighs, rubbing her palms against her forehead. She hisses as she catches the tender area where her stitches were.

Liz knew Kate often doubted Steve's methods. She had done from the very beginning, branding him too cavalier and cocky. Liz could not disagree, the man could be so pretentious at times. Though, she trusted him to know what he was doing, him being the actual officer. However, this was different to all the times before. The idea that no one other than himself was so assured by his plan to get close to Denton unnerved her immensely.

To not even tell him about her interview, even though his attendance would be expected - this did not look good for him.

Where was Steve, anyway? If he were with Denton, as she assumed, surely he would know of her being called in?

"Without him there, I could really do with another opinion," Kate says, troubled by her friend's reluctance.

"Is Dot not taking Steve's place? Hastings will be there too, right?" Liz asks, still unsure why Kate was insisting she sit in on another interview when Denton came in again in a few moments.

"Dot's an arse. And Hastings is...well…"

"Hastings?" Liz offers, knowing her godfather had been so difficult during this case.

"Yeah," Kate drawls, "And they are not you."

Liz groans, lowly, as she throws her hands in the air, "Fine, then. Fine."

A satisfied grin spreads on Kate's face at her friend's surrender, "She'll be here in 5."

"Sure, I'll be out there soon," Liz exhales, watching the woman leave her office with a pleased pep in her step.

Turning off her computer and taking a _long_ sip of her hot chocolate, Liz stands from her desk. Once outside, she turns to close her office door, locking it behind her.

"You coming then?" Dot asks as he passes her, coming to stand beside her as she fiddles with the key in the lock.

"Unfortunately, yes," Liz says with an exaggerated sigh, turning to him once finished with her door, "Kate can be very persuasive."

Liz knows it did not take much for Kate to convince her. A part of Liz was still intrigued. How could she not be after everything? And now, with Steve's risky strategy, she had even more reason to be concerned about the case and that woman.

Dot chuckles, "Will be good to get another opinion on it all, though."

"But why mine?" Liz asks, uncertain why he and Kate seemed so keen for her to be involved.

"You know her," Dot shrugs, "Probably better than any of us."

"Wouldn't be so sure of that," Liz quips doubtfully, folding her arms.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," the man says, "You've helped plenty."

Liz raises a questioning brow at the taller man's sincerity. It was at times like this, like when he had invited her to view the Hunter evidence, that she really did dispute Kate and Steve's opinion that he was nothing but a twat. She decides on sending him a small, grateful smile.

He smiles back, though it disappears when he looks beyond her to the office entrance, "Watch out. Here comes trouble."

Liz looks over her shoulder to see Lindsay walk out the elevator, led through the office gate by Kate. She holds her breath as Denton walks by them, ready for another glare - yet Lindsay does not even glance at Liz as the two women pass.

Liz blinks in surprise.

"You ok, Queenie?" Dot asks her, concerned by the way the shoulders of the woman beside him had tensed.

Liz questioningly hums, too occupied by frowning at the woman's indifference to have heard him.

"It will be fine," he reassures, her wordless response telling him all he needed to know about the effect the other woman had on her.

The young woman looks up at him, eyes wide and uncertain. Liz nods, hesitantly, then follows Dot to the interview room. With Denton, Kate and Hastings (who seemed to have been informed she would be making an appearance, judging by his lack of surprise at her arrival) already seated around the table, she thanks Dot as the man holds the door open for her to enter. Keeping a studious eye on the back of Denton's head as she makes her way to her own seat, Liz swallows down her unexplainable nerves. She sits in a seat at the end of the table adjacent to Denton's, not feeling comfortable being entirely on her side, physically or in this investigation. Hastings and Kate sit opposite the woman, with Dot on the opposite end.

"AC-12 interview. DI Lindsay Denton in the presence of Superintendent Hastings, DI Cottan and DC Fleming. In the absence of a representative, we have requested the presence of Wellbeing Counsellor to DI Denton, Elizabeth Thornton."

Liz fixates her gaze on Kate, who is rearranging some documents for the interview, as she feels Lindsay's hot glare burn her cheeks for the first time that day. She almost wants to laugh at the juxtaposition of Denton's blazing glare and the coldness of her expression.

"We are going to show you CCTV captured on the evening of the 16th August," Kate begins, turning the power on the remote for the screen, "It shows Dryden and Prasad at an event at City Hall."

The five of them in the room turn to look at the footage, Liz studying it closely as it was only her first time seeing it. Mike Dryden stood in the top right corner, talking to none other than Manish Prasad.

"I'm now going to fast forward a bit," Kate explains, doing so.

The group watch the speeding footage for a few moments before Kate presses pause as a young girl enters the frame.

"Oh my god," Denton exclaims, "That's Carly Kirk."

Liz realises this must have been the footage Steve had told her about a few days ago.

"I now want to show you some footage from the same night," Kate explains, "This is the security camera at the City Hall car park."

The screen displays a video of a car entering and exiting the frame, with the figures inside in clear view.

"It shows Dryden leaving with Carly," Kate says, tuning to Denton and leaning forward to study the woman, "You were investigating the disappearance of Carly Kirk. This footage is crucial evidence. You must be frustrated you didn't find it earlier."

Lindsay looks her in the eye, nodding, "Extremely frustrated."

Kate hums, "Well, we are now in a position to inform you of a development with the body found under the garage floor."

"Have they confirmed that it's her?" Denton asks, almost remorsefully.

"The opposite. It isn't her."

Denton allows herself to smile slightly as Kate informs her, tears beginning to prick her eyes, "Well, that's wonderful."

Kate glances to Liz who is clearly trying to suppress an eye roll at what she believes is another Denton-display.

Also irked by the way the woman opposite her is dramatically wiping her nose, Kate patronisingly asks, "She means a lot to you, doesn't she, ma'am?"

Denton sniffles, "Well, why wouldn't the life of a child mean a lot to anyone?"

Liz would agree, if not for the frustratingly fabricated emotion with which Denton declared it.

Just then, Liz hears the door open beside her. The room turns to look at the new arrival, seeing Steve Arnott frowning at them.

Denton keeps her eyes forward, as if she expected him to show. That bothers Liz.

"I didn't know this was happening," he says, perplexed, eyes darting to each of the five in the room. His frown deepens at seeing Liz sat there, looking apologetically up at him.

Liz turns away as he stares, clearly questioning why she was there. Again, it seemed as though he always needed an explanation as to why she was involved, when the others seemed to seek out her insight. Liz did not want to be here, and he was making her feel embarrassed for being so. But Kate had asked her to be. And Dot in his own way too. So here she was.

"Sit down," Hastings orders, who had so far been quiet, "The more the merrier."

"Are you ok?" Steve says to Lindsay, ignoring Hastings. Liz winces at the gentle way he places a comforting hand on Denton's shoulder as he asks, and the way the woman sniffles pathetically and performatively as he does. The concerned look Kate is giving her from across the table does little to calm Liz's uneasiness.

"I said sit down, for the second time, DS Arnott," Hastings insists, also perturbed by the display.

Steve nods this time, Liz scooting her chair over to the side to allow him to sit beside her and next to Kate at the end of the table. Instead, he pulls the spare chair from the corner of the room to Denton's other side, almost close enough their arms brush.

It was childish for it to hurt her feelings, she scorns, but it did.

Liz looks around the table, hoping to see the same bewilderment she felt on the others' faces. Kate exhales quietly beside her, Hastings just watching the young man with a careful eye. She catches Dot's gaze from across the table, seeing him send her an almost pitiful, apologetic look on his face. It was as if he were asking if she was alright, or bothered by the palpable display. Liz shakes her head once, letting him know she is ok. And she was. Steve was just playing along, still convinced his method of getting close to Denton would prove useful. _Right_?

Liz looks hopefully to Steve, trying to catch his eye so he can assure her this was all part of the plan. But he is looking at Denton, concernedly, as she wipes her dry eyes with her sleeve and sends him an encouraging smile. She knows the look he is giving the other woman. Liz had seen it herself a few times before. She thinks of the time she saw it most recently- that same worried glint in his eye after the collision and the way he had ensured her injuries were cared for.

Liz was meant to be good at reading people, seeing through deceptions to get to the truth of how individuals functioned. It was what she did best! Yet, with Lindsay Denton she had been nothing but confused. And now, Steve Arnott was becoming the same. Maybe he was spending too much time around that dishearteningly, complex woman.

One moment he would be kind and assuring, making Liz believe in herself like she never knew she could. He even got her a _cat_ after opening up to him about her old pet, for Christ's sake! But the next, he would be pushing her away to be with another woman, 'for the good of the case'. And he would doubt her, question why she was involved.

If it were all a ruse, as he had assured her, Steve was playing a risky game. Bringing Denton in, yes. But he was pushing them out. The others were struggling to trust him, unsure of his true intentions. It was not unheard of for Steve to fraternise with witnesses and other officers. Who is to say he would not do the same with a suspect? Liz had always been the one to stand up for him, reassure, not just Kate and Hastings, but Steve himself, of his ability as an AC-12 officer. But this time, Liz was struggling to understand him and his motives. So much had happened during this case, and she had learnt so much more about him. Her opinion of him had not by any means changed - it would take something pretty awful for that to happen - but that did not mean she was not wary.

If all this with Lindsay _was_ a ruse, it was very convincing. It seems Steve was a skilled performer when it came to getting women to trust him. Making them think they meant something to him. That he cared.

She was unsure Lindsay would be foolish enough to actually fall for it - but had _she_?

Before any more intrusive doubts can enter her overworked mind, Kate continues. Liz is grateful when the interview begins again, having something else to concentrate on. To distract her.

"We will now show you the second vehicle captured leaving the City Hall car park."

Liz looks to the screen, seeing footage play of a second car following behind Dryden. The image zooms in to clearly display the driver's face. It is Lindsay.

Kate looks challengingly to Denton, who stares numbly at the screen, "What does this image show?"

"You can't do this," Steve insists.

Kate and Hastings share a glance, the older man sending a glare at the young DS before looking at the woman, "Are you prepared to answer that question, DI Denton?"

Denton quietly admits, "The image shows me."

Kate folds her arms and leans forward, "Why were you there, Lindsay?"

"Mike wouldn't return my calls. I went there to confront him," Denton explains, expertly, "In a public space, he would have to avoid a scene."

"So instead you followed him?" Kate asks.

"No, I didn't. I was upset, I went straight home."

"What upset you?"

"Seeing him."

"Seeing him with Carly Kirk?" Kate prompts.

"I saw Mike at the function, I didn't see Carly," Denton insists.

"No?" Kate patronisingly questions, pointing to the CCTV footage, "They were right in front of you."

"Kate. She's answered," Steve scolds. Liz bites back a scoff.

Denton shakes her head, "I absolutely didn't see that Carly was in the car with him."

"Do you seriously expect us to believe that?" Kate guffaws, voicing what Liz was thinking.

Lindsay leans forward in her seat, glaring at Kate, "The first thing I knew about Carly Kirk was when I was put on her case. After the ambush. Before that I knew nothing."

Kate looks at her, unconvinced, compelling Denton to continue, "If I had, I'd have investigated. There would be evidence on my hard drive."

"We looked," Steve informs, "There wasn't any."

 _No shit_ , Liz thinks, bitterly, _because Denton is smarter than that._

Kate leans back in her seat, fixing her colleague with a fierce glower.

Hastings leans forward now, "Thank you, DI Denton. We'll place this interview in the case file and submit it to the CPS."

"Glad to have been of help, sir," Lindsay says.

Liz watches the woman look to each of them around the table, vacantly, her eyes finally landing on Steve's.

"I'll give you a lift home," Steve offers softly to her.

Liz feels her spine hit the back of her seat as she sinks into the chair, watching as the pair stand to leave. She hopes Steve will glance back at her while Denton exits, reassuring her everything is fine with just a look, as he had done so many times before.

He doesn't.

She observes through the windows of the interview room as Steve leads Denton out of the office, a gentle hand hovering protectively by the woman's shoulder.

Hastings stands next, thankfully capturing her attention.

The older man clears his throat, tearing his own eyes away from the retreating pair to his goddaughter, "Thank you, Beth. We really appreciate it."

She nods, unable to form words around the bile that had risen to her throat.

Hastings walks behind her to the door, patting her shoulder as he passes to head for his office.

Kate also stands, looking down at her silent friend, and quietly saying, "There are officers stationed outside her house. He'll be fine."

Liz appreciates Kate's attempt at comforting her, but instead, the idea of Steve being inside that woman's house - just the two of them - unnerves her more.

Kate collects her documents and leaves the room.

Liz leans forward, exhaling deeply, then characteristically grinds her palms across her forehead. She needed a hot chocolate. Or a wine. Either would do. Just something to get rid of the nauseous taste in her mouth.

"You alright?"

Liz jumps at the sudden voice, having forgotten she was not alone for a moment.

Dot is staring at her from across the table, his brow raised, concernedly.

She feels her cheeks flush, "Oh, yeah. This case… it's just so… so…"

"Yeah," Dot lets out a short breathy laugh, "It is."

Liz feels a small smile grow on her face too, glad he knew what she was trying to say without actually finding the words to say it.

"Arnott may be an arrogant prick at times," Dot begins, confidently, "But you should trust him."

Liz snorts, indignantly, "I do. I just don't trust her."

Dot nods, standing to move around the table towards her, "And that is why I trust _you_. You've got good instincts."

Her cheeks flush a little more at the compliment as she smiles, thanking him. She also stands now, standing beside him as he reaches for the door. Opening the door for her and allowing her to pass, Dot watches the young woman exhale as she steps out of the interview room.

"We are reviewing the CCTV again tomorrow," Dot explains, casually putting his hands in his pockets as he looks down at her, "You should be there."

"I don't think-"

"None of that, now," he mockingly scolds, "You're a part of this."

Liz feels her chest inflate a little, encouraged, as he repeats what himself and Kate had told her before. And they were right.

Steve could go about this case in whatever way he wanted. But, if it ensured his safety and that of her friends, Liz would get to the bottom of this herself if she had to.

* * *

The next day, Liz sits in one of the spare chairs with the four AC-12 officers. Dot has pulled over the TV screen to more easily review the CCTV of that night. Steve is behind her, perched on a desk. He hadn't spoken to Lizzie since Denton's interview. She had sent him a text that morning, asking how their interview with Dryden had gone. He had ignored her.

Kate was the one to eventually tell her what had happened, when she caught her earlier that morning in the office. Apparently, Dryden had requested he only spoke to Hastings. Started trying to persuade the Superintendent to appeal his arrest to the CPS in return for information about the ambush and who ordered it. He insisted Denton had been following him that night, after kicking Carly out of his car.

To Liz's gratification, Kate told her how Hastings had shouted at the man, tired of the 'mudslinging' between himself and Lindsay. He had scorned that he was investigating the death of four police officers and their squabbles were delaying justice. Liz would have loved to have seen that.

Dryden had then claimed he dropped Carly Kirk off at Edge Park Railway Station, and it was there he saw Denton. The station footage is what they were reviewing now, in hopes of catching Denton at the scene and disproving her claims she had gone home after the event at City Hall.

"This is the only camera that faces away from the platforms," Dot explains, indicating with the remote to the screen, "Now, there's no trains for half an hour, so nothing is coming in or out. But then…"

Dryden's vehicle enters the screen, with what appears to be himself and Carly inside. The footage is fast-forwarded for a few moments.

"Now, fifteen minutes later," Dot continues, explaining what is happening on screen, "Dryden's vehicle exits at high speed. Passenger seat is empty. No Carly."

Liz frowns at the vehicle on the screen.

"But if we keep going," Dot says, the footage once again fast-forwarded for a few moments before he hits play, "Shortly after, an unidentified vehicle exits the car park."

She leans forward to take a closer look at the small figure in the driver' seat.

"If we rewind," the screen does as Dot says it, "That same vehicle is seen entering the car park fifteen minutes before Dryden's."

Steve speaks up then, "This is the vehicle used to obtain the photos of Dryden and Carly."

"Most likely."

"Do we have any sightings of Denton at all?" Hastings asks, desperate.

Liz watches Dot shake his head, deflating.

"She could have been there but just knew how to avoid the cameras," Kate sounds certain in her suggestion.

"Dryden didn't," Steve shrugs, "What makes you think Denton is so clever?"

"Because she is," Liz snaps, twisting her seat around to face him, challengingly.

Steve looks affronted at her outburst, twisting his mouth awkwardly as the young woman glares up at him.

Steve should know better, Liz thinks. Enough had happened between them and Denton for him to know how calculating that woman was. She had warned him of it before Steve had even met her!

Liz wants to roll her eyes at the irony of his behaviour. Steve had always been so concerned with people underestimating him. Yet, here he was severely underestimating Lindsay Denton.

Steve was even underestimating Lizzie herself. Why would he just not listen to her?

Liz turns away from him, back to the screen. She catches eyes briefly with Kate, who nods at her approvingly.

"Well, I see nothing here to incriminate Denton," Hastings says, standing and studying the screen for one more moment.

Liz hears Steve shift slightly behind her, most probably uncomfortable after her brief, stern berating. She almost wishes she felt guilty. Almost.

"Dot, have you got a minute?" Hastings asks, the man nodding, "Kate, Steve, get ready you two. We've got a meeting to go to."

"Yes, sir," the two officers say as they leave for their desks. Liz feels Steve look her way one more time before doing so, but she refuses to glance back, instead watching as Hastings beckons Dot to stand closer to him.

Liz, feeling out of place, stands from her own chair, pushing it back to the empty desk where she found it. Though, she does it a little more slowly than necessary in an attempt to catch some of their hushed conversation.

She strains to hear Hastings speaking in such a quiet, low tone to the other man.

"-but he's saying no to Cole being the Caddy-"

Liz starts to place some of the other chairs back to their original positions, to give the appearance she was not listening in.

"-the Caddy is the link between the criminal parties and corrupt officers-"

She now picks up a discarded crisp packet and some spare, loose paper from the closest desk to place in a conveniently nearby bin.

"-he's your responsibility, Matthew."

"Yeah, sir, I'm on it-"

Liz, as casually as possible, hangs by the screen until their conversation ends and Hastings heads off for his office. Looking to Cottan, she sees him with a dejected look on his face, eyes helplessly gazing over his desk as he contemplates what Hastings has instructed.

"Are you alright?" she asks, stepping closer to the desk and into his view.

He looks down at her, eyes suddenly refocused and nodding, "Yeah, just, uh- Just disappointed. I thought we had him."

Liz huffs, looking up sympathetically at the man, knowing from listening in he was referring to Cole, one of the ambushers, being his best Caddy suspect.

"I know, that must be frustrating," Liz kindly agrees. The complications of the Denton case had taught her well enough how discouraging it could be to be proven wrong. And Matt Cottan had so far been nothing but amiable with her since joining AC-12, showing his support of her joining the team. The least she could do was return the genialities, "You're a hard-worker and a good detective. I know you'll find him, eventually."

The taller man smiles down at her, good-naturedly, "Cheers, Queenie."

Liz rolls her eyes but allows herself to chuckle, pleased he is feeling better already, "Anytime, _Dot_."

With that, she sends him a small wave and heads in the direction of her own office. She grins as she realises that was the first time she has called him by his nickname. She had always been so professional, before, when she came to TO-20 for their appointments. Made a point of it. As much as she may have tried to hide it out of professional courtesy, it was no secret Liz hated her time in that branch. She almost felt bad for lumping him into her bad books with the rest of them. Matthew Cottan was proving himself to not be the man she thought he was (unlike some other people who will, for now, go unnamed).

Dot watches Liz go with a small smile. It falls into a smirk as her office door closes.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of a shorter chapter this time, which might be the way for a while as I prepare to go back to full-time studying! don't worry though, I am committed to finishing this so will do my best to write and update when I can. I want this o be as good as possible, so I promise longer waits will provide greater quality!
> 
> on that note, thank you so much to everyone who commented after admitting I had doubts in my writing ability. your support means so much to me! I cannot believe people are enjoying this fic as much as I am enjoying writing it!

Another day, another Lindsay Denton interview. 

Kate had not had the time to brief Liz on what the purpose of this particular interview was, but she assumed it had something to do with Jayne Akers’ car. Kate, Steve and Hastings had visited the forensic storage facility to inquire about the tracker they had found on it.

Kate had, however, told her that Steve went back to Denton’s house after. She had let out a frustrated groan at that. He had been the one to drive Denton here this morning. Liz only hopes he was sensible enough to have gone to his  _ own  _ home overnight.

Liz once again sat to the side of the table, with Kate and Hastings on one side, and Denton and Steve sat beside each other on her other. Dot sat opposite her, having once again asked her to be present. Steve had refused to look at her even once so far.

“Thank you once again, DI Denton,” Hastings says once the group is seated.

“We have received the forensics report on the tracker device found under the front left wheel arch of Akers’ vehicle,” Kate immediately begins, “There are some irregularities that need to be explained.”

“Irregularities?” Denton asks, supposedly curious.

Kate responds, “Well, the tracker would be expected to retain paint and metal residues transferred during its prolonged contact with the under-surface of Akers’ vehicle.”

“And it doesn’t,” Dot states, bluntly.

“Instead, there’s a mix of residues,” Kate lifts a challenging brow, “A proportion of which is consistent with the underside of service vehicle registration number NV54 0FT, this being the service vehicle you were driving on the night of the ambush.”

Denton only blinks.

“Obviously this is a very peculiar finding,” Hastings says.

Liz looks over as Steve clears his throat, fiddling briefly with his tie as he shifts in his seat.

“I don’t know very much about it,” Denton deceives, “but I wonder if possibly exposure to the very high temperatures of the fire have caused an error.”

Liz holds back a sneer. This woman had an answer for everything.

“Open flames typically reach 900 degrees celsius,” Denton casually claims.

Dot looks over to Liz, his brow quipped in surprise. She folds her arms, shaking her head minutely so the woman did not see.

Kate smirks, “You just said you didn’t know much about it.”

“No, no I didn’t. I was just taken aback,” Denton quickly tries to cover up, swallowing hard, “by the heat of the fire at the time and it’s something I… I looked up afterwards.”

Kate condescendingly nods, “Well, picking up on the forensics, though, let’s speculate on whether the tracker might not have been on Akers’ vehicle prior to it being found there that night.”

“You were a variable,” Dot asserts, “Maybe you’d get suspicious and ruin the plan. So they put a tracker on your car.”

Denton shakes her head, curling her lip, “That’s not what happened.”

“Or you were a scapegoat,” Kate offers, “Left alive to carry the blame and the tracker would only add to that.”

“As I just said,” Denton insists, “that’s not what happened.”

“And yet, DI Denton,” Hastings adds to the push, “that’s what the forensics are implying.”

“With respect, sir, this conversation can’t take place.”

Liz can feel the room stiffen as Steve speaks up.

“You’re asking DI Denton questions relating to the charge of Conspiracy to Murder. Questions which are specifically off-limits under legal process.”

Kate looks around at her colleagues, irritated. Liz returns her infuriated glance as their eyes meet.

“No one’s accusing Denton of anything here,” Hastings says, innocently, “She’s answering purely as a witness, DS Arnott.”

“Is it possible a tracker could have been placed under your car without your knowledge?” Dot asks Lindsay, ignoring Steve’s attempts to interrupt the interview.

Lindsay briefly looks to Steve for a moment and then shrugs, “It’s possible.”

“Because if you were sure it couldn’t be there, that would mean you’d checked,” Hastings suggests, “And why would you do that?”

Liz tries not to smirk, satisfied, as Lindsay helplessly looks around the room, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles to think of something to say. For once, Lindsay Denton did not have an answer. They had her.

Denton turns to Steve, pleadingly, who just looks back at her with a brow raised. 

“Look, I- I, uh…” Denton stutters, “I’m sorry, do you mind if I just take a loo break?”

“Of course,” Hastings says with a polite smile.

“Thank you,” the woman says as her and Steve stand to leave the room.

Steve hangs back, telling Lindsay he will just be a moment. Denton nods, making her way out of the room and to the bathroom.

“What the hell is this?” Steve rounds on them.

“Well, we have on record the time Denton radioed in Status Zero,” Kate says, proudly, handing him a document.

Steve glances over it for a moment as Kate continues, “Various figures are banded about but the best estimate is between four and five minutes elapsed before the blue lights arrived.”

Liz sits forward, curious, it being the first time she had heard about this new evidence. Steve stares up at Kate, bewildered.

“If you were her,” Kate questions, “what would you do in that time?”

Steve just looks at her, clearly contemplating but not settling on the same conclusion as everyone else in the room. The man was so stubborn.

“My bet is she found the tracker and she moved it,” Kate shrugs, “Because that is the one thing that would prove she was part of the ambush conspiracy before she got the emergency call that night.”

Steve just shakes his head. Liz sighs.

“Conspirator or scapegoat,” Kate says, her voice now raised, impassioned by his reluctance to accept the facts, “either way she was known to the ambushers.”

Hastings folds his arms, satisfied.

Steve looks at each of them in the room, finally setting his eyes on Liz for the first time that day. His mouth twists, thoughtfully. Liz raises a brow as his furrows.

“I’ll go get Lindsay,” Steve announces, standing from his chair and tenaciously throwing the document onto the table.

Once he has left the room, Kate lets out a shaky, bothered breath. If she had not seen Kate’s mouth move, Liz might have thought she had been the one to do it herself.

After a moment of watching Steve walk through the office to the toilets, Liz suddenly stands.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Liz declares, leaving the three AC-12 officers to watch as she leaves the room to catch up with the man.

“Steve,” she calls out, hoping he will stop. His head turns slightly at her voice but he continues walking.

Liz’s blood boils.

“DS Arnott!” she shouts, this time her formality making him stop still.

Moving to stand in front of him, Liz disapprovingly glares, “What are you playing at?”

Steve visibly winces, crossing his arms defensively, “Excuse me?”

“You know exactly what I am talking about,” Liz scolds, “And you are doing exactly what she wants you to do.”

Steve sighs, “Lizzie-”

“No, Steve Arnott, you will listen to me,” Liz points a finger at his chest, much like Hastings used to do when scolding her as a child, “How can you not see what Denton is doing here? She’s been playing a game with us this whole time, and is playing a game with you.”

Steve just scoffs, his face hardening again.

Liz continues, “It’s dangerous, Steve.  _ She’s _ dangerous.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Steve growls, “If Denton is guilty-”

“Which she is,” Liz says, now sure.

Steve huffs, “You’ve changed your tune. Were sure of her innocence not even a week ago.”

“Yeah, and things changed.”

“What changed?” Steve asks, bitterly, “The evidence is purely circumstantial, not enough to prove she was not set up-”

“You were willing to charge her on less!” Liz scoffs, reminding him of his assurity of her guilt at the beginning, resulting in her arrest, “Is this about the case anymore or is this about your own pride?”

Steve’s face drops. Liz feels terrible, but that does not stop her from saying what she has wanted to say.

“You’re not listening to me, to any of us,” she says, getsuring back to the office, “We are a team. This isn’t about you or me - this is so much more than any of us. And we need to work together. But we can’t do that if you’re running about doing exactly what I tell you not to do!”

“And who are you to tell me what I should and should not do?” Steve bites.

“I’m your friend,” Liz says, quieter, “Or have you forgotten that?”

“What?” Steve exclaims, “What are you talking about?”

She raises a hand to list on her fingers, “You’ve ignored every bit of advice I have given you, you’re not calling or texting to let me know you are safe, and you’ve even refused to  _ look _ at me the past few days! And for what?”

“You have no right to question the way I work,” Steve warns, voice brisk.

“I do when it concerns the safety of the people I care about-”

“You’re not an investigator! Not even an  _ officer _ !” Steve proclaims, cruelly. He had not heard her, so deafened by the sound of his heart beating in his ears, “You’re just a glorified HR!”

Liz takes a small step backward, cringing. Her anxieties of Steve’s doubt in her skills realised. She had been right.

And to think, Liz had been so touched by his assurances and kindness - but it was all false. She had fallen for it, as many women likely had.

But she meant nothing to him, certainly so in comparison to how much she cared for the man. He probably just kept her around for his own ego, liking it when she would give him compliments and affirmations.

Steve Arnott was an arrogant arsehole.

“Tell her she has two minutes,” Liz mutters, turning away from Steve to return to the interview room.

He remains standing, watching as she walks away, head down and defeated. Steve thinks of the way her eyes had dulled as he belittled her. The rosiness of her cheeks paling. He feels sick.

* * *

Kate blanches at the bleariness of her friend’s eyes as she returns to the room, head down and quietly moving her chair to fully sit beside her at the table.

“What happened?” she leans in and asks quietly, unable to see once Liz left the room and turned the corner after Steve.

Liz says nothing, just glares at the table in front of her as the door opens, Denton and Steve returning to their seats.

Once settled, Denton looks the officers in the eye, “I can’t explain the irregularities on the forensics.”

“But you must accept it’s possible that somebody may have placed a tracker on your vehicle without your knowledge?” Kate says, pointedly, knowing the woman must have conjured up another excuse.

“I don’t actually, DC Fleming,” Denton says, patronisingly, “Because that would mean I was known to the conspirator prior to the ambush. And I wasn’t.”

“Well, then why would there be any order to spare you?” Kate asks.

Denton looks between Kate and Hastings, then looking to Steve at her side, “An order to spare me?”

Steve shakes his head, looking down, “Kate, you can’t ask this.”

Kate just shrugs.

“I’m sorry, but did somebody say there was an order to spare me?” Denton insists on an explanation.

Liz, admittedly, is searching for one too.

“DI Denton, it would help us immensely if you were prepared to address the issue,” Hastings says, “I mean, if you’d rather not…”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Lindsay says in that annoyingly feigned innocence, “I just...I just always wondered if I was lucky. But now I realise they… they must have known I had nothing to do with it, and they planned to let me go.”

“So you  _ were _ known to them,” Kate smirks, “They could have used you to track the convoy. Which would mean there  _ was  _ a tracker and it  _ had _ to have been moved.”

Denton closes her eyes, sighing, “Could have been a tracker. Could have been moved.”

“There’s no ‘could’ about it, DI Denton. That’s what forensics says,” Hastings claims.

“Yes, but as a word to the wise, sir,” Denton patronises, “it is legally unacceptable for you to ask me if I moved it.”

“Do you know who moved it?” Kate pushes, unbothered by the woman’s warning. It was a clever way to rephrase the question around the legalities.

Denton looks at her, slightly incredulous, “Very good. No, I don’t.”

“Was it moved before the blue lights arrived?”

“Akers’ car was on fire,” Denton reiterates, slowly, “Nobody could get near that car until the fire was out.”

“It is possible to move the tracker using some sort of implement that would extend a person’s reach,” Kate offers.

Denton hums, pretentiously, “And was any such implement found at the scene?”

Kate sighs, sitting back in her seat, dejectedly, “No.”

“No,” Lindsay repeats.

A disappointed silence falls over the officers, Denton’s eyes flickering to each of them before she rudely asks, “Right, is there anything else?”

“No,” Hastings huffs, “Thank you, DI Denton, that will be all.”

Lindsay doesn't hesitate to get out of her seat, heading straight for the door. Steve immediately follows after, though this time, he does hesitate in the doorway. He looks back at Liz, wanting some sort of indication where they now stood after their fight. She doesn’t look up from the table.

His eyes move to Kate’s, who is glaring at him warningly. She knows something happened between them, and is clearly wondering what  _ he _ did wrong. She looks like she might smack him.

With a sigh, he leaves the room.

“Well done, Kate, you gave it your best shot,” Hastings assures the woman beside him.

Kate just stands, collecting her documents and leaving the room quietly. Liz watches her friend go, sadly. She thinks Kate must be disappointed, as they all were, there was still not enough, even after all this, to define Denton as guilty.

Liz had noticed her friend had looked particularly tired, lately. Her undereyes were often puffy and a darker shade then usual, standing out on her pale skin. It seemed she had not been sleeping.

“Nicking criminals is hard enough,” Hastings says to her and Dot, who remained seated, “Nicking coppers, God give me strength.”

With that he stands from his chair, smiling gloomily at Liz as he passes her. Liz follows, Dot close behind.

“I should probably go find, Kate,” Liz tells the taller man, “Make sure she’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he nods, heading for his desk, “See you in a bit.”

Liz leaves the office, heading to the balcony that overlooks reception, guessing that is where her friend would be. She was right, approaching the woman to stand beside her. Following Kate’s fixated glower and down to the ground floor, all thoughts of Kate’s wellbeing floodsfrom her mind.

Steve leads Lindsay out of reception, a hand placed firmly on her lower back.

“Wanker,” Liz mutters. Kate scoffs in agreement.

* * *

Steve is in his apartment later that night, taking a beer from his fridge and sitting on his sofa. One hand grips onto the unopened bottle, the other raking through his hair, stressed.

Lizzie’s phone number had been open on his phone screen on the table for the last half an hour. He wants to apologise, regretting what he said the moment the words left his lips. But what would he say? ‘Sorry’ seems too simple, especially in this case and especially with her. Lizzie deserved more than that.

He doesn’t even know where they came from. Steve was just as shocked by his anger as she had been. But that wasn’t a good enough excuse. He doubts there is one.

Steve knows she has his best interests at heart. Lizzie always did, more than anyone. But something about the way she was clearly doubting him struck a nerve. He had been underestimated and belittled by so many before, always had something to prove. Never to her, though. So to hear his friend question him like that - it hurt and he snapped.

Lizzie was right, it  _ was _ about pride. He was arrogant, stubborn, pretentious. He hated it when people tried to tell him how to do his own job. Steve had even clashed with Hastings plenty of times - and he was his boss! Everyone seemed to doubt him and his plan to get close to Denton. Kate was visibly frustrated with him the last few days, sending him disappointed glares whenever she could slip one in. It made him feel terrible.

But he knows what he is doing. Steve knows he knows what he is doing. Perhaps the others are too skeptical to see it, but he thinks it is working. Surely they saw the way Denton kept looking to him for support during the interviews? They must see the way Lindsay is becoming dependent on him for things like lifts and advice?

Lizzie was right, yes. Lindsay Denton was dangerous. Whether she was involved in the ambush or not, she was capable of terrible things. Steve knew that personally; the woman had come between him and his friends many times during this case. Digging up their secrets, using it against them, making them question each other and their compatibility as a team.

Steve sighs, rubbing his free hand down his face, looking to his phone screen. Lizzie’s name glows up at him, tauntingly.

He should tell her how he feels - about the case, about Denton. But the truth was, he didn’t know how he felt. Nothing had torn at him as this case had. It drove him mad, the sleepless nights thinking over every complicated, contradictory detail and every complicated, contradictory possibility. But he was too damn stubborn to admit it.

Was he appeasing Denton to prove her innocence or guilt? Truthfully, he did not know. But something  _ has _ to come of it. It has to. They have tried everything else.

Lizzie, of course, had tried getting close to Lindsay. She was successful at first, naturally bonding with her new client and being there to understand her. He should have known Denton was going to be a pain in the arse the moment Lizzie told him she was hard to decipher. Lizzie was the best at what she did, he knew that from experience. If she could not figure someone out, no one could. Yet, he was too prideful to not have to try himself.

It was not that he doubted Lizzie, not at all. Despite what he said (the thought of which makes his chest ache intensely) to her, Steve really did consider Liz’s work vital and unprecedented. He truly admired her dedication to her work and the people she worked with. Steve felt Lizzie made him want to do better,  _ be _ better. Not just in the way she understood him and counselled him into believing in himself, but in the way her insight was beneficial to so many in so many ways. He was jealous, in that sense, he supposes. He is sure it must have seemed he was questioning her involvement in this case at times, but truly he was just envious of the way Hastings, Kate and even Dot had sought  _ her  _ out to help, while raising a brow at  _ him _ . It is immature, he knows. And he let it get the better of him.

He had always done what he could to return the favour to Lizzie, reassuring the woman of her ability and worth whenever he had the chance as she had done for him. It frustrated him to no end how much she ridiculed and distrusted herself. She needed support sometimes, just as the rest of them asked of her. Steve wanted to be that for her. Then, today, he threw that all away in one idiotically ignorant and impassioned rant.

He sighs, picking up the phone.  _ Just call her _ .  _ Tell her the truth _ .

Which truth? That he is an arrogant arsehole? That he has no idea what he is doing? That the reason he is doing it, besides the textbook standard ‘wanting to solve the case’, is to keep Lizzie safe?

Yes, that was part of it too. Steve had seen the way Lizzie was shaken by Denton threatening her on her doorstep. He noticed how devastated Lizzie had been when Denton exploited the truth about Hastings’ money troubles, Kate’s undercover deception and his own antics. He was aware of how conflicted Lizzie felt about Denton, wanting to help but having a distrusting instinct about her. He was aware of how uncomfortable Denton made Lizzie feel.

But there were many things concerning Lizzie and Lindsay that he did not know, concerning him just the same. Steve did not know why Denton had asked for her to be present at her interviews after she found out Lizzie’s association with AC-12. He was unsure why Denton had asked for Lizzie to attend her mother’s funeral, then not speak to her the entire afternoon. He was not privy to what dirt Denton had on Lizzie, as she had the rest of the team, and why she had not yet revealed it. He was unaware of what Denton has schemed for Lizzie.

So, yes, one of the main reasons he had decided to step in, take over from Lizzie to get closer to Denton was for his friend’s own safety. That is what Lizzie would do, isn’t it? Do what she can to prioritise his wellbeing? 

She would understand that if he was just honest with her, right?

_ Damn it.  _ He throws away his phone, it landing a little away from him on the sofa.  _ Coward _ .

What was he so afraid of? After all, when did Lizzie not understand?

She seemed to not understand him now, that was what hurt, wasn’t it? She had said about him not calling or texting her, to let her know he was alright and how things were, was something making her feel upset - so why was he not doing just that to make things better?

Swallowing his pride and putting the unopened beer bottle onto the table, Steve reaches for his phone.

He takes a breath as he looks over the contact page, reciting her number in his head as if it were a mantra to motivate himself to call.

His finger hovers over the call button, shaking in anticipation as he hesitates.

He feels his heart leap into his throat as he receives an incoming call, then.

It’s Lizzie.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another longer chapter for you! I hope you enjoy this one! as I have said before, pretty much since beginning to write this, I am so excited to wrap up this season and move on to some original content and season three!!

Steve pulls up to the house, a police car parked outside it. An officer stands by the front door, defensively. He sighs, seeing the woman shouting at the officer. He exhales deeper when he sees the other woman, pulling at her arm.

Getting out of his car, closing the door behind him, he jogs over to the front drive.

“Steve,” Liz says as she turns to see him approach, his chest aching at the relief in her voice.

“Lizzie,” Steve nods, awkwardly standing by as she tugs on the other woman’s arm, “Everything alright?”

Kate seems to be resisting Lizzie’s attempts to turn her away from the house. Steve can see her eyes are red, infested with tears, streaming frantically down her cheeks. Liz looks to be on the verge of tears too, looking at her friend soft-heartedly.

“Kate,” Liz says, gently, “Steve’s here.”

At that, the sobbing woman turns to him, gesturing manically at the front door of the house and shouting, “The bastard’s changed the locks. I bloody live here!”

Steve looks to the house then, not having been to Kate’s personal address before. It looked like your average family home. A neat front garden, floral curtains, colourfully blown-glass on the door. He assumes Kate is referring to her husband, but is unsure the full story as to why she is in such a state, locked out of her own house in the middle of the night. Lizzie had not explained much on the phone, just that she needed his help. He had come right away, not even thinking to ask.

Liz looks at him pleadingly now, silently asking him to assist her.

“Come on,” Steve says, stepping forward to take Kate’s other arm in his with Liz on her other side, “Let’s get you out of here, mate.”

Kate rips her arm out of his, falling into Lizzie who wraps her other arm around the woman.

“The last thing I need right now is _you_ ,” Kate cries, bitterly, her annoyance at his recent antics worsened by her current stress.

Liz rubs the woman’s back comfortingly, resting her cheek on the top of her head as she sobs. She looks over Kate’s head to Steve, apologetically. She also hopes he can get Kate to do as he asks and leave, Liz’s gentle approach clearly not having been enough to get her to listen.

“These officers are doing you a favour here,” Steve explains to Kate, glancing at the others standing near him. It was late and she was in a bad way, not the right time to be making more of a scene, “I am too.”

“I live here, Steve,” the woman spits back, uncurling from Liz’s chest to glare at him.

“Kate,” Steve glares back, “Move.”

Kate huffs, immaturely stamping her foot as she strides away from them and the house.

Liz sighs, following after her friend, Steve coming to walk beside her.

“Alright?” one of the officers asks.

“Yeah, we’ve got her, thanks mate,” Steve assures, his step quick to keep up with Liz who was chasing after Kate.

“Kate,” Liz says, pleading with her to stop.

Kate turns to them as they reach her, sniffing and gazing back at the house with tears blurring her vision.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks as Liz wraps her arm around Kate again, the other woman melting into her side.

“I just wanted to see my son,” Kate cries.

“You will see Josh, I’ll make sure of it,” Liz assures, quietly, “But not tonight. It is late.“

Kate blubbers, shaking her head, “I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

Liz feels her heart break.

Steve sighs, still unsure what is happening but disturbed at seeing his friend in such distress, “Come on, let’s get you in the car.”

Liz nods at him, gratefully, leading Kate to his car. Steve opens the back door, Kate stepping into the seat. Sure her fiend is comfortable, Liz walks around to the passenger’s seat, letting out a relieved breath as she sits down. She turns to look at Steve, who is now sitting beside her behind the wheel.

“Thank you, Steve,” Liz says, briefly glancing at the blubbering women in the back, “I know it is late, but I didn’t know who else to call. I still don’t have a vehicle replacement after the collision and you seemed like the best person to ask.”

Steve shakes his head, politely, “No problem at all. Are we going back to mine?”

Liz is surprised to hear the offer, her heart warming at the idea he would do something so excessively kind for their friend. Then again, he had done so many kind things for her before.

“We can take her back to my place, if that’s ok?” she offers, Steve nodding before starting the car.

The drive to Lizzie’s apartment is quiet, except for the occasional sob from the woman in the backseat. Liz’s heart breaks a little more every time she does. She reaches her hand back between the front seats, holding her open palm out to Kate. The woman takes it, gratefully, squeezing to revel in the comfort her warm palms provide. It was rather an awkwardly uncomfortable position for Liz for the remainder of their journey, but if it was supplying her friend any consolation at all, the ache in her arm was worth it.

“Where have you been staying?” Steve suddenly asks, looking in the mirror at the woman sitting behind him.

Kate sniffs, looking away out the window, ignoring his question.

“Kate?”

Liz winces at his question, having learned the truth earlier that day. She was still getting her head around it all, wishing she could have done more to help. But she was thankfully, for Kate’s sake, that her and Steve were here with her now.

Kate darkly chuckles, turning to glare coldly at Steve, “I was undercover on Denton. And I blew it. And now we’re blowing the whole case.”

Liz looks out her window now, shrinking slightly in her seat. She knew Kate still held contempt for him for his increasing familiarity with Denton and apparent belief the woman was innocent. Liz, herself, felt the same, but wished they could have a moment together without discussing that _damn_ case. Especially as the tension between her and Steve was still raw after their argument.

“I need to close this, Steve, or I’ve got nothing,” Kate states through grit teeth.

Steve exhales, “Listen-”

Kate does not give him the chance to begin, continuing her almost-hysterical berating, “And you were _shagging_ the nurse and now you’re _shagging_ the prime suspect-”

“I’m not!” Steve declares.

Liz swallows, keeping her gaze on the blank night sky.

“I saw you together,” Kate argues, reminding Liz of the few touches Steve had shared with Denton that also had concerned her.

“Your undercover failed because we underestimate Lindsay,” Steve argues, though he wishes he was not being so defensive when Kate was saying things to him in this state. He sees Liz shift awkwardly in her seat beside him, clearly thinking to when she had accused him of doing just that, “But mine’s succeeding because she underestimates _me_ just as much as you do.”

Liz inhales sharply at that. Refusing to look at him and involve herself in this conversation, she was unsure if Steve had meant for that to have sounded so pointed at her. She turns to him, then, relieved to see he was only looking at Kate in the mirror.

“What?” Kate asks, her sobs subsiding as she leans forward for an explanation.

“I think you’re right about her,” Steve explains, his eyes now catching Liz’s and holding her gaze whenever he could look away from the road, “I think she did it.”

Liz releases her breath, grateful to finally have an answer. But why had it taken so long for him to tell her?

They pull up outside Lizzie’s apartment building, silent as they, including Steve, contemplate his declaration. Lizzie steps out first, telling them she would get the doors open, fishing in her coat pockets for keys. Once she finds them, she turns the lock, opening her flat door.

Looking back, Lizzie sees Steve embracing Kate, him whispering assurances that “it will be alright” in her ear. Liz lets herself smile at that, glad Kate has them - and glad she has _them_ too.

She watches them for a moment, the door held open ajar with her shoulder. This was the Steve Arnott she knew. _Kind_.

He catches her eye, sending her a small sad smile as he pulls Kate, who is gripping helplessly to his jacket, tighter. Liz nods, gesturing with her head for him to lead her into the flat. Steve pulls back slightly, taking Kate’s arms in his hands, then wrapping an arm around her shoulder and guiding her to the door. Liz stands to the side to allow them in, offering for them to make themselves comfortable.

Liz lets out a breathy chuckle when they both do anything but that, standing rather awkwardly in the small space.

“How about you take a shower? I’ll bring you some fresh towels and some clothes to borrow,” Liz proposes to the weary woman.

Kate smiles as best she can, though it feels painfully tight against her dry lips. Tears continue to prick her eyes at her friend’s kindness. She nods, weakly.

“Ok,” Liz places an arm on her shoulder, leading the woman slowly to the corridor, “If you just wait a moment I can bring you some towels and spare clothes.”

“Thanks, Liz,” Kate croaks, thankfully.

“I can get some hot drinks going,” Steve offers as he moves into the kitchen area, making Lizzie turn towards him.

“Thank you,” she whispers, “I’ll just be a minute.”

Liz watches him pick up the kettle and take it to the sink to fill it up before heading to her bedroom. 

Steve feels himself exhale when Liz leaves the room - Kate seems to notice.

“She only wants what is best for you, you know?” Kate says as he places the kettle on the stand, switching it on, “She only wants what is best for both of us.”

Steve huffs, watching the water begin to bubble instead of looking at the other woman. She must have heard about their fight, or worked it out for herself. Wouldn’t take a genius.

“What happened tonight?” Steve asks, finally turning to her and attempting to change the subject.

Kate looks down and away from him, playing with the hem of her jacket sleeve, “I was having an affair. Came clean. Mark kicked me out.”

Steve feels his mouth gape. He had assumed it to be something like that but was not convinced Kate was capable. Then again, she always had been so secretive about her personal life, something he assumed she picked up from training. That’s what made her so good at what she did.

“With who?”

Kate sighs, breath shuddering, “Richard Akers.”

She watches apprehensively as Steve’s jaw clamps shut. She thought it would be easier to admit to after coming clean to Liz. In fact, it had given her the courage to confess to her husband. Whatever happened, she knew Liz would be there to support her. But to tell that woman the truth was so much easier than anyone else. Mark had reacted terribly, rightfully so. The worst thing about it was that he didn’t even seem surprised.

For Steve, things are starting to fall into place. Kate requesting to be removed from the case, her timid reaction to seeing him at the funeral, her almost exaggerated professionalism at his house and in the interrogations. He had assumed she was just grieving the loss of Jayne, her old friend. But no, it was so much more than that. And he had no idea. Kate Fleming was _the best_ at what she did.

He thinks of the times Liz had asked him about her, how she had behaved around the man. He brushed it off as Lizzie’s usual unnecessary concern for her friend, what with the personal connection to the couple. But again, she saw what he could not.

“How long has Lizzie known?” he finds himself asking.

Kate shakes her head, smirking slightly, “She always knew.”

Steve just nods; _of course she did._

“Liz is a good woman,” Kate says, sadly though assertively, looking him in the eye as challengingly as she could currently muster, “Don’t throw that away. Especially over something so stupid.”

Steve just looks at her, unsure what to say. She is right, of course. He has no doubt Kate is thinking of her own strained relationship, realising the worth of the people she has around her when it feels as though it is all collapsing around her. But where did that come from?

Before he can ask, Lizzie returns holding a pile of towels and clothes in her arms. The kettle pops as it boils, gratefully giving him something to look away to, unsure, especially after what Kate had said, what he would even say to the woman. Where did they stand?

“Here,” Liz says, passing the towels and pyjamas over to Kate, “Sorry, they were the first I grabbed.”

Liz smiles at Kate’s chuckle. ‘The Muppets’ themed set were the best she could find that would fit her friend comfortably, and Liz had hoped it would get a smile out of her. Ted had bought them for her at Christmas when she was 16, several sizes too large and not realising ‘the Muppets’ were not exactly ‘cool’. Kate looks up from the repeated print of Kermit and MIss Piggy’s faces to smile up at her, the tears still threatening to fall.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, tearfully.

“Of course,” Liz sighs, “Take your time, we’ll just be out here. Let me know if you need anything”

Kate nods, passing by her for the bathroom. Liz returns to the living area, where Steve is pouring the boiled water into three mugs. She walks to the fridge, taking out the milk for him to use and placing it next to him on the counter. He turns to her as she approaches.

“I saw you had some Nesquik in your cupboard so made you that instead,” Steve says, hoping the casual conversation can distract them from the awkward tension in the air.

Liz nods, regrettably endeared as she looks at the hot chocolate he is stirring. He had remembered it was her favourite hot drink, “Thank you.”

An awkward silence fills the room as he slides the mug to her.

“I can put some toast or something on if you would like?” Steve asks, fixated on the toaster rather than looking at her. 

Liz cringes at his excessive attempt to avoid the discussion that needed to be had. This tension was unbearable. And after everything that night with Kate, this was the last stress she needed.

“Want to join me on the sofa?” she asks, feigning indifference but hoping he will say yes.

“Sure,” he says, though evidently nervous.

Steve follows her to the sofa, taking a seat beside her. They both take a sip of their hot drinks, wishing they hadn’t so soon once burning their tongues before placing them on the coffee table in front of them.

They sit in silence, Liz looking to the floor as he glances around the room.

They both sigh.

“So-”

“Steve-”

They bite their burnt tongues as they both build up the courage to speak, quickly looking away from where they had suddenly, over-confidently turned to each other.

Liz shakes her head, disappointed by her lost nerve. It was only Steve. Just talk to him! She turns to him, looking pointedly at the side of his reddening face.

Opening her mouth to finally speak, a surprised exclamation leaves her mouth as her furry friend jumps onto her lap, “Oh, hello you!”

Steve turns to her then, confusedly creased brow softening at the sight of the cat nestling into Lizzie’s chest. He watches, a small smile creeping onto his face, as he watches Lizzie lovingly stroke the side of her cheek on the top of the cat's head.

“You remember Steve, don’t you?” Liz asks the cat in a patronisingly high-pitched tone, “He’s the man who brought you to me. Say “thank you, Mr Arnott!””

She lifts the animal above her face, moving a paw as she repeats the line in a characterful voice, as if the cat were speaking to him. Steve feels himself grin at her goofiness, also relieved the tension hanging in the air was broken. Liz looks at him from around the cat, giggling quietly as she pulls Saoirse back into her chest.

“How is she getting on?” Steve asks, watching the pair fondly. The dryness in his throat has eased, finally allowing him to speak.

Liz smiles down at the cat, “Great, actually. Seems more at home here than I am.”

Steve chuckles lowly, reaching a slow hand out to the animal who is looking at him with wide eyes. He thinks back to when Lizzie had taught him how to do it, _gently_ , using her own hand to guide him. Remembering that technique, he softly places his finger on the cat’s head, his chest swelling proudly as it begins to _purr_ as he does.

Liz looks up at the man with a small smile on her face, though her heart still aches. She watches him for a moment, the smile turning into a grimace as she plays over their argument. The words Steve spat at her still bites at her nerves, niggling away at her mind. It was almost as if he knew exactly what to say that would trigger her deepest anxieties. And he used that against her. She should hate him for it.

But, she can’t. She just can’t. 

The fact he was the first and only person she could think to call to help her with Kate said it all. Steve Arnott was arrogant, pretentious and a damn idiot sometimes. But he was also kind, sensitive and, truthfully, loyal. 

Liz had spent many nights over the last few weeks wondering if she meant as little to him as his flings. Or even less, seeing as they would never get _that_ far. She considered her fears realised after their fight, assuming he had deceived her with his friendliness as he had won over all those other women.

But, tonight, Liz had been reminded that could not be the case. 

His concern for Kate was genuine. The way he had hugged her and assured her was real. Steve had no reason to come and help when she called him, yet he was there in minutes. If he really cared for Liz as little as she convinced herself, why else would he have come? After their argument, what reason would he have to be sitting here now, having made her a hot chocolate and playing with the cat he had thought to give her?

“Thank you,” Liz says, watching as he looks up at her, “I really appreciate you coming when I called. It is late, you didn’t have to.”

Steve stares, bewildered, then swallows, “Of course I did. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

Liz blinks, remembering the time she had said something similar to him when Steve asked her to come to the trail about the Ali shooting a year ago. It felt good to hear him say it.

Steve is glad when she smiles back at him, feeling the tension diminish. Yet, he can feel it linger, knowing something needs to be said.

“I am sorry, Lizzie,” Steve says, sincerely, removing his hand from the cat on her lap.

“Steve, please-”

“No, let me say it. For once,” Steve insists, “You were right, it is about pride. I should have told you the truth; that I was unsure about Denton. But I was too stubborn to admit it.”

Liz sighs, wishing he did not have to apologise but also appreciating his admittance of his mistake.

“And I know I should have listened to you,” Steve continues, “As much as anyone can, you know Denton the best. You know all of us the best. You have just as much, if not more, to contribute than me and I guess I just- well, I-”

Liz raises a hand to his arm, stopping his increasingly incoherent rant. Steve huffs, wishing he had come to a decision on what he wanted to say to her when he had the chance. _This_ was that chance, and he was blowing it. He had said the word ‘sorry’, but it did not feel like enough. Receiving her call had cut him short, distracting him from concentrating on how to explain himself and apologise. So now he just sounds like a bumbling idiot - like a nervous thirteen year-old trying to convince the girl he likes to be his girlfriend, without just saying the word. He was too damn stubborn. And embarrassed. 

“Steve,” her smooth tone saying his name immediately calms his mind, “I understand.”

Steve exhales. He had hoped she would, as she always did. But he had feared this was too far gone, too complicated. Yet again, Lizzie knew him well enough despite his failed attempt to explain.

Liz tightens her grip on his arm, scooting closer a few inches as Saoirse jumps from her lap. It was always significant when a man that stubborn could find the nerve to apologise. You knew he meant it when he did. And, despite not quite getting the words together, Steve had, in a way, reassured her he acknowledges her ability at reading people - as well as her value regarding Denton and the case.

The first thing she remembers noting down in her initial meeting with the man was ‘ _something to prove’._ How could she not expect that to blow up when she questioned him? He should not have berated her in the way he did, of course. It still stung when she thought about it, whether she believed he meant it or not. But she had reprimanded him just the same, taking a few stabs at his ego (though more fragile than hers) too.

“I’m sorry too,” Liz admits, quietly. Steve winces as she says it, “I shouldn’t have questioned you like that, it wasn’t my place.”

He shakes his head, almost furiously, “No, no. It is your place. I want it to be.”

Liz raises a questioning brow, prompting him to continue.

“You’re my friend, Lizzie. You know me better than anyone. I need you to look out for me, stop me from making stupid mistakes as you have done so many times before,” Steve confesses, though the tips of his ears begin to burn.

Liz bites back a grin, chest swelling at his compliments. She wants to stay quiet and let him apologise to move on, but knows Steve needs to hear it, “Then, you can’t shut me out. You need to let me in and help.”

“I know,” Steve nods, assuming she means personally but too embarrassed himself to not keep it strictly about the case, “The others are right, you’re a part of this. We need you, and trust you. But I just want you all to trust _me_ too.”

Liz moves her hand from his arm down to his hands, where they sit nervously in his lap. Steve immediately warms to the touch, wrapping his fingers around her hand and gripping it back.

“I do trust you,” Liz asserts, looking him in the eye, assured now she is right to, “I just don’t trust _her._ ”

Lindsay Denton was cruel and calculating. The woman had discovered and exploited particular aspects of the AC-12s officers’ lives to manipulate and torment them with. She made it personal. Liz did not know what Denton had on her, and that terrified her more than if she did. But she had come between her friendship with Steve - something that meant more to her than most other things in her life - and that was enough. She would not let that woman win.

One thing Liz prided herself on was not being a hypocrite. How could she scold Steve for allowing Denton to gain the upperhand if she was too? No.

“I am going to her branch tomorrow, want to ask some questions of her boss,” Steve explains, wanting to inform Lizzie of his next moves.

Liz nods, wishing she could ask more about what has happened between him and Denton so far but knowing he is already making an effort by beginning to disclose this. Steve seems to mistake the curiosity on her face as doubt.

“I know what I am doing,” Steve says, a hint of bitterness evident as his hand loosens against hers.

She grips it again, reassuring him she knows, “I don’t doubt it. I just want you to be careful.”

Steve relaxes, his fingers once again tightening around hers in relief, “I’ll take Kate with me, if she wants.”

Liz smiles in response, knowing he is doing that to make her feel better. She knows he is aware they all feel hesitant towards his lone mission of winning over Lindsay. But he finally seems to understand it is only worse for him the more he shuts them out.

Steve feels himself smile too, relieved they seem to be alright again.

He reaches for his coffee, prompting Liz to do the same with her hot chocolate, taking a sip each. They sit in quiet for a moment, revelling in the peace. 

Steve then looks around the apartment as he had done the last few times he was here, “All of those...”

He gestures with his head to the numerous shelves on the walls, crammed full of books. Liz follows his gaze.

“Have you read them all?” he asks, curious, taking in the amount of them.

Liz chuckles, her own eyes gazing over their spines, “Mostly, yeah. Though it has been hard to find the time lately.”

So much had been happening, with the case, with Ted, with Kate and with Steve - even when she found the time, her mind would not shut off enough for her to concentrate on the words.

“Do you have a favourite?”

Lizzie thoughtfully twists her mouth at the question, not really having considered it before, “Probably, ‘Jane Eyre’.”

She hears Steve hum behind her, causing her to glance his way, “Have you read it?”

Steve shakes his head with a nervous laugh, causing her to giggle.

“Well, you should!”

“Austen, right?” Steve says, a little too proudly.

Liz’s giggle turns into a snicker, “Not quite. Charlotte Brontë.”

“Ah,” Steve shrinks, embarrassed, “What is it about?”

Liz sighs, wistfully, “A young woman - orphaned, insecure and a bit of an outcast - gets hired as a nanny by a guy called Mr Rochester. He’s a bit of an arse but they eventually fall in love, both helping each other to be better.”

Liz shrugs at Steve’s unconvinced brow, continuing, “It’s romantic. Though, without spoiling anything, the relationship definitely goes through some... hurdles.”

Steve nods, admittedly a little curious. But he was never a man for reading. Much preferred to spend his time as a kid doing sport and other, more aggressive, stuff.

“You remind me a bit of him, actually,” Lizzie grins, teasingly, as he raises a brow, “Mr Rochester.”

“In what way?” Steve asks, a little unnerved by her mocking smile.

“Well, he likes to think of himself as all _mysterious_ and intelligent, knowing better than everyone else,” she sniggers as Steve scoffs, though regretfully finds himself smiling too, “But he is actually, deep-down, just a big, emotional, sensitive baby.”

Steve’s mouth hangs open in offence, though the corners of his mouth are turned up in an incredulous smile at her nerve, “Oh really?”

“Mhmm!” Liz nods, grinning wide with a humorous glint in her eye.

“And what about Jane? _She_ likes him!” Steve argues, wishing he had read the book to defend himself better. Yet, to be fair, he could not find a fault in her comparison from her description. 

“Jane’s smart! Quiet yet passionate. Doubts herself often, not really sure of her self-worth. Doesn’t have much support, especially after her parents’ deaths. But endlessly loves the people she deeply cares for, and has a good sense of character,” Liz explains, her smile faltering slightly as she thinks of what had drawn her to the book when she was younger. The similarities between the protagonist and herself… “And, yeah, she likes him. Praises the best parts, acknowledges the bad. She helps Rochester understand himself and be a better man. And he does the same for Jane. And they love each other for it...”

They sit in silence for a moment after that, just looking at the other. Liz is unsure why her stomach is twisting. Steve is unsure why his chest is hurting. An unclear, yet somewhat strangely familiar, tension has flooded the space.

But it is broken by Kate reentering the room.

“Hey,” she calls out, looking over to the pair who sit on the sofa. She raises a brow, seeing how closely they sit, just staring. Only a few hours ago, they were pretending the other didn’t exist. There was definitely a strained atmosphere in the room, Kate herself could feel it - but this was different to before.

Liz’s eyes widen at the sound of her friend’s voice. She jumps up from the sofa, immediately missing the warmth of Steve’s hand she had not realised she had been holding the entire time. Her cheeks flush. 

“Oh, hey,” Liz shudders, sending a hopefully convincing smile to her friend, “Feeling better?”

“Much, thanks,” Kate smiles, gratefully, though her eyes flicker between the woman standing opposite her and the man remaining seated, almost bewildered, on the sofa.

 _What did Kate see?_ Judging by her friend’s pointedly raised eyebrows: _enough_ , Liz thinks. Not that there was anything to see. Just two friends having a chat. So what was that look she was getting for? 

Steve turns to look at Kate, clearing his throat before speaking, “There’s a coffee on the counter for you.”

Kate sends him a thanks, walking over to the mug, tasting the lukewarm liquid inside. She had spent a long while in the shower, mostly just thinking everything over. The case, the affair, her husband - her _son_. But then she thought of her two friends, who had looked out for her and were caring for her now. Despite all the mistakes she had made, they were here for her. They always would be.

Kate joins them in the living space, taking the now empty seat on the sofa beside Steve, as Liz remains standing.

The three of them take a sip of their drinks. Kate almost chokes when she feels something brush against her wet ankle. She looks down, to see a cat looking up at her.

“When did you get a cat?” Kate asks Liz, surprised.

“Oh,” Kate watches as Liz locks eyes with Steve for a moment, “Only about a week ago.”

Kate looks back down at the furry creature. Something about it’s blue eyes and grey coat was eerily familiar.

She frowns, placing her mug down on the coffee table, “Is this Denton’s cat?!”

Steve and Liz only look at each other silently for a moment, then turning to Kate.

“I thought she would be better off here than the shelter,” Steve says, shrugging.

Kate’s jaw hangs open for a moment as she turns her gaze on the three beings in the room, finally landing on the cat.

“Her name’s Saoirse now,” Liz explains, understanding the woman’s shocked reaction. She had experienced it herself. It had taken her a while to get her head around the circumstances and for it to not feel weird.

“I was thinking about Denton,” Kate says, sighing and tearing her eyes away from the cat to look between her two friends, “Something isn’t right.”

“You noticed?” Liz teases, smirking into her drink.

Kate chuckles as Steve sits forward, nodding, “You’re right. We’re definitely missing something.”

“Where do we go from here?” Kate asks, unsure.

“I was thinking of going to her branch tomorrow, speaking with her boss to see what he has to say,” Steve explains, “You in?”

Kate is surprised by his offer, assuming he would still be taking it all into his own hands. Liz must have gotten to him, “Yeah, sure.”

“If you both have to head off early, you’re welcome to stay here tonight, too,” Liz says to him, “Not sure where but we can make space.”

He shakes his head, “Nah, don’t want to put you through the trouble. I’ll be getting off soon.”

“The scene of the ambush has been gone through every which way,” Kate interrupts, throwing her arms in the air slightly, defeatedly, “There aren’t any forensics that incriminate Lindsay.”

“Well,” Liz begins, feeling encouraged by Steve’s earlier admission of her value to the case, “how about we look beyond the ambush, and go back further? We know she was there at City Hall on the night of 16th. There has to be more to that.”

Steve nods in agreement, having thought the same himself, as he finishes another sip of coffee, “Let’s assume Denton did follow Dryden and Carly to the train station. There’s limited CCTV coverage and she’s clever enough to avoid the cameras.”

Liz smirks to herself to hear him admit that, after she scolded him for not believing it the other day. She places her now empty mug on the dining table, pulling over a chair to sit near them.

Steve continues, “But say she does witness the sting on Dryden involving Carly.”

“She has always denied a connection to Tommy Hunter,” Liz expands, on the same wavelength as he is, “But this could be it, twenty days before the ambush.”

“Carly’s the connection,” Kate states, now seeing what they were getting at, “If Lindsay was there she would have known about Carly way earlier than she claims.”

“That would leave a trail,” Steve says.

“Exactly,” Liz agrees, “We always said she may have chosen to investigate Carly’s case out of an emotional connection. This could be it.”

The three sit in a contemplative silence, Kate occasionally reaching to take a sip of her coffee.

“I should go,” Steve says, looking at the time on his watch and realising how late it is.

Liz stands with him, leading the way to the door. Kate remains on the sofa, stroking the cat at her feet.

“See you tomorrow then,” Steve says to her as he reaches the door.

“Cheers, mate,” Kate smiles, “For everything.”

Steve only nods, “Get some rest.”

Kate nods too, turning back to her coffee and the cat.

Liz opens the door, Steve stepping through it but turning back to her before leaving.

“Let me know when you’re home,” Liz instructs.

Steve scoffs quietly at her concern, nodding over her shoulder at their friend, “I’ll be here at nine to pick Kate up. Take care of her.”

“Yeah,” Liz says quietly, nodding, “Thank you, again, for coming tonight. You’re a good friend.”

“And so are you,” Steve admits before he can stop himself, not that he wants to. He needs her to know, after everything he said, that she means something to him.

A humble smile brightens Liz’s face as she ducks her head. Steve feels himself smiling too.

“Goodnight, Steve,” Liz says with a small wave.

“Goodnight, Lizzie,” Steve returns, turning away from her and out of the building.

Liz waits a moment, watching him disappear, before closing the door. Turning back to her friend, she tenses at the expectant expression on Kate’s face.

“What?”

“What were you both talking about?” Kate asks, a feigned offhand tone.

Liz rolls her eyes as she walks back to the sofa, plopping down tiredly next to her friend, “Just the case.”

“Oh?”

“What do you mean ‘oh’?”

Kate just takes another sip of her coffee, irritably ignoring the question, “So you’ve made up then?”

“We apologised, so yes,” Liz says, rubbing a hand across her now aching forehead.

Kate turns to her, sharply, “What the hell did _you_ apologise for?!”

“Kate-”

“That man might have finally explained what the hell he is playing at but that does not excuse him acting like such an arse and saying what he said to you!”

Liz sighs, “I know. But he is trying.”

Kate immediately softens, herself having been reminded tonight of how much Steve did care for his friends despite it all.

Liz recalls when she told Kate what had happened between her and Steve, once the man had left the office with Denton earlier that day. The woman was furious, throwing a few (hopefully empty) threats around. The conversation had turned then, Kate emboldened by Liz’s grief and honesty to come clean about her own ordeal: being kicked out and sleeping in her car. Liz had been horrified, scolding herself for not realising sooner and doing something about it. Though, she was grateful she now had the opportunity to look after her friend and make up for the delay.

“You can stay here,” Liz says, sincerely, “Not just tonight, but until you find somewhere to stay.”

Kate looks at her, eyes wide and grateful, “Are you sure? But you don’t have the room…”

“Of course I am sure,” Liz smiles, warmly, “You can take my bed, I can sleep on the sofa.”

Kate goes to protest, but Liz holds up a finger, “No, no, no. We both need to rest and I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re out here on this thing.”

The other woman sighs, knowing her friend will not relent and also admittedly looking forward to such a luxurious sounding night’s sleep. Her car was not exactly a comfortable living space. She felt like she hadn’t slept in days - was sure she looked like it too.

“Besides,” Liz’s grin widens, bumping her shoulder into Kate’s, affectionately, “Will be nice to have your company. Just like old times. Bunk-buddies!”

Kate herself smiles, reminiscing about their days in training and also grateful to have this time with Liz. Since she started undercover work, they did not get to see each other as often, “Yeah. Thanks, Liz.”

The woman brushes her off with a wave of her arm, “Not a problem, you’re more than welcome.”

"No, I mean-,” Kate shakes her head, recapturing her friend’s attention, “for being there. Thank you.”

Liz offers a gentle smile, reaching out to wrap her arms around Kate. The other woman falls into the hug, relieved someone has her back, whatever happens.

This was Kate’s mistake and Kate’s mess to clean up. But she was glad she did not have to go through it alone.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a rather short, rushed chapter this time - I have to admit I was just so eager to end the season and get onto some good stuff which I am sure you will all enjoy! I hope this one is alright, not really sure how I feel about it but am glad things are finally starting to get moving again into my favourite season in terms of what I have planned!

Liz taps her foot impatiently, sitting on her sofa and unable to concentrate on the new playing on her laptop. She was waiting on a call to update her on what was happening.

Kate had told her last night over dinner that the Carly Kirk missing person's case had only been one of the Mispers put on 28 day release. According to Denton's branch head, she had not shown any prior interest and it was in fact Duty Sergeant O'Neill who was the case's response officer. Suspicious of what this implied, Steve had asked Lindsay about O'Neill later that night while at her house. Denton has supposedly disciplined the man for misuse of his work computer the year before, with Lindsay herself confirming to Steve the pair never got along. Apparently, as Kate told Liz, Steve suggested to her that O'Neill took the call from Akers and questioned whether he could have been in on it, letting her take the blame. Lindsay eagerly denied he could be in on it.

AC-12 had called O'Neill in for an interview earlier today. Kate had managed to tell her a few details on their lunch break; how O'Neill was the initial responder on the Carly Kirk case yet claimed it was a dead end, and the way the man had vehemently denied searching 'Alex Campbell' - Tommy Hunter's protect alias - on his computer. Her friend also explained she was going to Denton's house that afternoon, luring her out under the pretence of accompanying her to a crime scene to help locate Carly Kirk. While at the Edge Park Railway Station, the plan was for Steve and forensics to enter Denton's home and carry out a search.

Liz understood what that meant. They were close.

Piecing some things together herself, Liz assumes they believed Denton to have used O'Neill's laptop to search the Protected Witness weeks before the ambush, implicating her prior knowledge of him. They were almost certain at this point she was guilty. Surely she denied O'Neill's involvement to steer them away from looking into his computer.

But they still needed something definitive. Anything.

Kate said they would call her if they did. So, here Liz was, anxiously waiting.

Liz had tried to make dinner, but found her stomach too uneasy to eat. She had also tried to catch up on some reading, encouraged by her conversation with Steve the other night, but her mind was too fixated to concentrate.

Even playing with her cat made her think of Lindsay Denton.

Liz sighs, restless.

Her phone rings.

Jumping forward to reach for her phone that vibrated on the counter-top, Liz reads Steve's name on the glaring screen.

She takes a breath before accepting it.

"Hello?" she asks, attempting to keep her shaky voice controlled.

"Lizzie," Steve breathes down the line. She frowns, unable to determine the tone of his voice and what it meant for the case.

"Well?" she asks after a moment of his silence.

"We did it. We've got her."

* * *

Liz arrives at Denton's street around twenty minutes later. She had to walk, still not having her own car, despite hoping she could get there before Lindsay was taken away and the scene was cleared. Steve had explained little to her on the phone, not having to say any more to convince her to head their way. She had to see it to believe it.

Liz was almost ashamed to admit she had almost run the entire way, so eager to get there as soon as she could, also needing a way to burn off her excited yet apprehensive energy before the need to act professional around other officers.

Taking a few deep breaths to recover from her brisk journey, Liz rounds the corner, seeing several police cars line up outside the house she assumed to be Lindsay's. Blue police tape had cornered off the area around her house, stopping nosy by-passers from getting too close as officers bustled about the place. Some of them were walking in and out of the house, leaving with plastic bags full of various items. Liz wonders as she approaches the tape what it was that solidified their right to arrest her. Which one of the bags held the treasured, damning evidence?

Just then, an officer appears from the house. Liz's heart jumps to her throat as Lindsay Denton trails beside them - handcuffed.

Liz swallows as Denton looks around, her eyes coldly scanning the crowd of officers and bystanders. She steels herself for when their eyes inevitably meet.

When they do, Denton sends her a signature blank glare. Liz does not back down, not even relenting to blink as she glowers back. For once, Liz couldn't care less what the woman could be thinking. It did not matter to her now. She was safe, and so were her friends.

Lindsay watches her until she is pushed closer and into the car. Liz feels her nerves ease, her shoulders relaxing for the first time in easiness builds the further the car drives away into the distance.

Scanning her eyes over the crowd for a familiar face, Liz frowns when she cannot find Kate or Steve. Had she missed them?

"Excuse me?" Liz asks a nearby officer, stationed to watch the growing curious crowd, "Have you seen DS Arnott around? Or DC Fleming?"

Just then, Liz hears her name being called from somewhere behind the officer. Looking over their shoulder, Liz sees Steve by a police car, stepping out of a white forensics suit and waving over at her.

"She's with us!" Steve shouts to the confused officer, who nods and lifts the tape for her to pass through.

Liz ducks, stepping under the tape and straightening again, thanking the officer as she passes. Looking down the street at Steve, the pair only stare at each other for a moment, the crowds and flashing blue lights blurring around them. Once the moment passes, she sees the smallest hint of a smile break out onto the man's face.

She does not know what possesses her, but her feet break out into a slow run. Heading in his direction and seeing him turn to face her fully, Liz allows herself to grin too - taking his proud smile as an indication it could be over. Carefully manoeuvring herself around the officers as she jogs, she finally comes within several steps of him. Steve steps forward hastily too, coming to meet her half way.

Their arms wrap around each other as their bodies collide, forcefully with the speed they had gravitated through the crowds. Liz winds her arms tightly around and over his neck, Steve's arms coming up underneath hers to rest securely on her back. She is lifted slightly from the ground, only a few centimetres or so, him bending back with the force of which she threw herself at him. Liz chuckles, relieved, hearing him do the same in her ear, though muffled by her hair.

It was strange for both of them, neither having experienced this contact with the other. But it was nice.

Mixed with the emotions of finally incriminating Denton and proving her guilt, something Liz was still owed an explanation about, they take a minute bask in the moment.

She leans back after a minute or two, Steve swaying them gently with their arms still wrapped around each other.

"You did it?" she asks, smiling wide,

Steve smiles back, beaming proudly, " _We_ did it."

The pair giggle, a little deliriously - intoxicated by the emotion of this case. After everything, it could really, actually, finally be over.

It is then, as they both share a laugh while simultaneously sighing out of relief, the pair realise how close their faces are.

Steve can feel her long red hair tickle at his chin, where some of it splays over her arms around his shoulders. Liz feels his light breath fan over her cheeks, dusting them pink.

"You should probably put me down now, before you drop me," Liz whispers, a small smile on her face, unable to tear her eyes away from his.

Steve smiles up at her too, his arms tightening slightly around her, as if not wanting to.

"Not like you would have far to fall."

Liz almost yelps as she is suddenly dropped to the ground, her and Steve's heads snapping to the new voice beside them.

Dot stands there, smirking at them.

Steve clears his throat, awkwardly tugging at his tie. Liz looks to the ground, tucking some hair behind her ear.

They can both feel their cheeks stinging, as if harsh reality has slapped them around their faces. It was just a friendly, celebratory embrace. But here, at a crime scene with officers running around them, was not the place.

The taller man's smirk widens.

He turns to Steve, "Congratulations. Quite the find."

"Yeah, well," Steve shrugs, "We knew it was out there. Just needed to find it."

Liz looks between the men, still unsure what the evidence they found was. See would ask later, her throat a little too dry from embarrassment now to speak up.

Dot nods, "Well done, mate. And you, Queenie."

Liz balks, looking up at the man in surprise at his seemingly, once again, appreciation of her work, "Oh, thank you. And you, of course! What does this mean for you now?"

Dot looks at his feet and then back up at her, "Go back to AC-9, suppose."

Liz sends him a sad smile, "Well, can't speak for this lot but it was a real pleasure having you around the office."

Dot smiles at her, kindly, reaching out a hand for her to shake, "Pleasure was all mine."

Steve watches as their hands meet in the middle, firmly shaking a few times as they smile at each other. He suddenly reaches out his, interrupting to get the man to shake his own hand. Dot looks at him for a second, but eventually does before returning his hands to his pockets.

"Steve, Dot," Hastings greets, approaching the trio and smiling at his goddaughter, "Beth, good to see you, love."

"And you," Liz smiles, "Congratulations!"

Ted's grin widens, cheerfully clasping his hands together and gesturing his head over to Steve, "All thanks to this git."

They share a laugh, Liz looking to the man beside her. Steve catches her eye, the tips of his ears burning at the intense pride he sees in them.

"Dot, can I have a word?" Hastings turns to the man, leading him a few feet away to talk.

Liz steps around to face Steve again, smiling up at him, "So what was it?"

"Bank notes, lots of them," Steve explains, looking over to the truck where the evidence bags were being stored, "She made a point collecting her mother's belongings, even straight after finding out she had passed away. Strange to be the first thing she would think of."

Liz hums, thinking it over. If Steve had not been there in those moments, close to Lindsay, he would not have made the connection. Meaning, they would not have found the conspiracy money and would not have any incriminating evidence. But it paid off. His plan had worked. And it was finally over. Surely, that was enough.

Liz doubts any of them would question Steve Arnott's methods again - or she hopes, at least.

"You should be proud, Steve," Liz says, quietly yet with a smile, "I am."

Steve shakes his head, looking to his shoes, humbled, "Couldn't have done it without Kate, or Hastings. Or Dot, even.. Especially you."

Liz's smile widens as he looks at her, her heart swelling at the sincerity in his eye.

"Where is Kate?" Liz asks, having wondered but been too caught up with Steve.

Liz bets Kate loved finally arresting Denton again, for what would almost certainly, gratefully, be the last time.

"She's already heading to the station, followed behind the police car," Steve explains, Liz nodding, "Speaking of which, I should be going too. Just wanted to see you first."

Liz's cheeks ache with how much she has smiled, "Yeah, tell Kate to call me when she can. We should go for a drink later, once everything is sorted."

Steve exaggeratedly nods, "Yeah, yes, definitely. God knows I need one… or six."

"Great," Liz chuckles, "Text me to arrange the details and I'll be there. First round on me."

"See you later, Lizzie," Steve waves, turning to head to his car. Liz smiles, watching him go.

She finally exhales - deeply - not having realised she needed to. It felt like she could breathe again for the first time in months. It was over.

Not just Denton's torments and games, but everything with Steve too. After everything, it had all worked out in the end. It almost seemed too good to be true.

Of course, Denton was not officially charged yet. But surely there was nothing more in the way of that woman and a conviction. There was nothing more that woman could throw their way. Nothing to twist and to manipulate.

Liz could relax. And it felt good.

Well, that strange, small niggling feeling was still writhing in her gut - but that must just be the complex mix of emotions over this case, right?

A little distance away over her shoulder, Liz can hear her godfather still talking to Dot.

Turning to them, she moves a few steps closer, raising a brow as she catches Hastings' eye, asking for permission to approach. Ted waves her over, assuring her with a smile she was not intruding.

"Just asking Dot here about his report on the Caddy," Hastings explains as she comes to stand beside him.

Liz turns to the taller man, curious. She knew how disappointed Cottan had been when his first lead fell through, and only hoped he had found something to report before he was transferred from their branch, "How's it going?

"Coming along fine, yeah," Dot discloses, "That Cole guy was a nasty piece of work. Wish I could finish the job."

Liz offers him a small, sad smile. Part of her wishes he could stay. He had been nothing but kind to her, surprisingly.

"Still," Dot shrugs, "I expect that'll go to my replacement now, eh?"

"I've been meaning to say," Hastings begins, "your secondment from AC-9…"

The older man looks to the young woman beside him, who nods eagerly, clearly assuming correctly what he was about to say. That was all the reassurance he needed.

"You've fitted in really well," Hastings smiles, "How would you like to make that permanent?"

Liz looks back at Dot, grinning encouragingly up at him.

Dot smiles slightly himself, clearly not needing to be persuaded, "What can I say, sir? I;m your man."

Hastings reaches out his hand, shaking Dot's, "Good lad. I'll see you tomorrow, both of you."

With that, the superintendent leaves in the direction of the evidence van, no doubt continuing his duties.

"So," Liz says, stepping closer to Dot and folding her arms, "Who would have thought even a year ago?"

Dot chuckles, shaking his head, incredulously, "You're telling me."

"Congratulations," she says, reaching out to put a supportive hand on the man's arm, "I guess we'll be seeing a lot more of each other then?"

"Is that a promise?" he quips, smile widening with hers.

She laughs, removing her hand and refolding her arms, "We are going for some drinks later; me, Steve and Kate. You should join us!"

Dot nods but hums hesitantly, "I would but... think I am about as welcome as I will ever be with those two."

Liz shakes her head, chuckling again.

He had a point. Kate had warmed to him, maybe. But Steve still seemed reluctant, despite her assurances. She knows they had history, somewhat, but could not quite work out what made Steve so distrustful of the man?

If only Liz looked beyond the sea of police cars to where Steve still sat in his own, glaring at the pair as they joked together - she might begin to understand why.

* * *

"Hey, sorry I am late," Liz exhales heavily, having had to walk again to meet them at the pub.

"How convenient," Kate rolls her eyes, sarcastically, "Late when you've offered to pay for the first round?"

The women chuckle, Liz taking a seat beside her at the bar.

"I could have given you a lift," Steve insists, overly concerned.

Liz shakes her head, dismissively, "I know, but then you would have to drive back, meaning you couldn't drink."

Steve quietly scoffs to himself, not surprised she had considered what was best for him, even in the little things.

"What are you drinking?" Kate asks her.

"Oh, I'll get it," Liz says, leaning forward to catch the attention of the man behind the bar, "Besides, you're meant to be saving for a flat."

"Sick of me already, are you?" Kate quips.

Liz's head snaps to her, brows creased fiercely, "That honestly offends me that you could even joke about that."

Kate laughs, Steve smirking as he watches them. The bartender approaches, Liz reordering a wine and beer like Kate and Steve have in front of them, and another wine for herself.

"Thank you," Liz smiles, taking a sip of her wine.

"Cheers, Lizzie," Steve says as the beer is placed in front of him, Kate smiling at her, gratefully.

"Least I could do for AC-12's finest," Liz jokes, raising her glass to them slightly before taking another sip.

"Just glad it's over," Kate says, lifting her wine glass.

Steve hums in agreement, though sees Liz look away to pick at the coaster on the bar-top.

"What is it?" Steve asks, concerned, making her look up at him.

"What do you mean?" she frowns.

"You've got that look on your face."

"What 'look'?"

"That 'I have something controversial to say but too polite to say it in case it hurts someone's feelings' look," Steve declares, adamantly.

Liz gapes at him, then sighs, defeated. Since seeing them this afternoon, she had given in to that twist in her gut slightly, "I just - this is _Lindsay Denton_ we are still talking about here. After so long playing her games, I struggle to believe it is over. Just like that?"

Steve sighs, admittedly having thought the same but not wanting to give into the worry, "I doubt she has anything else planned to plead her innocence. Seemed pretty shocked to have been caught out. And we found some pretty damning evidence."

"I know, I am not questioning either of you at all. You did _so_ well," Liz hurriedly defends, worried they were taking offence, which was why she had opted to stay quiet anyway, "I just think she is still capable of twisting this has not been found guilty yet. She will plead against it. And it will be hell."

Liz notes the frustrated but agreeing glances she is receiving from her friends. It saddens her to think she ruined their excitement at having 'ended' the case.

She sighs, knowing she has already blurted too much and wanting to stop herself, "I just don't think it is completely over not yet."

"No," Steve agrees, sadly, looking her in the eye, "But whatever happens, we are in this together."

Kate nods too, clearing her throat after a moment of the two on either side of her just smiling at eachother, softly and as if she were not there.

The pair blink, distracted from their gaze at her sound, looking away to their drinks.

"Just need the toilet, be back in a bit," Steve says, standing from his stool and walking away from them.

"So," Kate immediately rounds on the woman beside her when he is out of sight, Liz blanching at the seemingly teasing tone her friend begins with, "Heard you and him gave quite the show earlier?"

Liz rolls her eyes, refusing to meet Kate's badgering gaze, "What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I am talking about," Kate huffs, amused.

"You weren't even there! Who told you?"

"Dot."

Liz groans, "Since when did you two gossip?"

"Since you gave us something to gossip about," Kate smirks, taking a nonchalant sip of her wine.

"What do you think about him officially joining the team?" Liz asks, hoping to change the topic but also curious, "I'm happy for him, he seems really determined with this whole Caddy business-"

"No, no, I know exactly what you're doing," Kate scolds, waving a finger, "We aren't talking about that man, we are talking about Steve."

"What about him?" Liz growls, frustrated she has been caught out, "It was just a hug! Everyone hugs! _We_ hug!"

"This isn't just about a hug," Kate shakes her head, chuckling, "This is about all the smiles, and the private conversations and the looks-"

"So I can't even _look_ at him, now?" Liz scoffs, feeling her cheeks _burn_.

"When you two look at each other it is like there is no one else in the room, sometimes."

"What- Kate, what are you even implying here?" Liz asks, cursing herself for doing so, knowing exactly what Kate was _wrongfully_ implying.

"You're a clever young woman, Liz. I don't need to say it," Kate shrugs, "Though, I would _love_ for you to."

Liz releases a breath at that, though it is strange. She is thankful it wasn't said. Once out there, it could never go back. Not that it meant anything. Liz just did not want anything to change. Especially because of something _so completely ludicrou_ s.

Her and Steve had just overcome the tension between them. The last thing they needed was for more. Again, _especially_ because of something _so completely ludicrous_.

Liz tries to think of something to say, to retaliate. But her mind draws blank.

Liz’s mind was usually overrun with thoughts; about this, about that, several reasons for every perspective when looking at each of this and that - it was, quite frankly, exhausting.

Yet, she can’t even think of anything to say when her friend is teasing her about something _so completely ludicrous_.

Kate rolls her eyes at the woman’s silence. _Boring._ She keeps quiet herself though, seeing how flustered her friend is. Liz had been nothing but kind to her with everything recently, offering her a place to stay. And who was she to give relationship advice? She has already done her fair share of meddling with other people’s relationships.

But there _is_ something between her two friends. She did not know what exactly. _But there_ _is_.

If Liz was not such an overthinker and Steve actually had some braincells, maybe they would realise it.

“Nothing is going on with me and Steve,” Liz admits, quietly, startling Kate (and herself) by speaking up, “And nothing will.”

“Why?” Kate asks, no longer teasing.

“He’s my _friend_ ,” Liz shrugs, “Don’t exactly have many of them, do I? Why would I, if there _were_ anything there, want to jeopardise that?”

Liz is unsure where this is coming from, never actually having thought about it before - that she can remember. Her gut twists, likely at how weird the idea of her and Steve being anything more than what they are, is.

“And, technically, it would be highly unprofessional,” Liz continues, unable to stop herself now she contemplates it for the first time, “He’s still a client. That breaks several confidentiality and workplace regulations.”

Kate scoffs, laughing, “Liz…”

“What?” Liz also finds herself laughing, knowing how entirely ridiculous this whole conversation was, “And speaking of work, when would I even have the time? I have to network and host appointments and reply to emails and make resources and run workshops and-”

“You know what?” Kate says, mouth turning upward in bored amusement, “Forget I asked.”

Liz laughs, though it does not reach her eyes. Her stomach sinks. This wasn’t even about Steve anymore (that idea being too outrageous to even consider), just relationships for her generally. She never considered herself someone anyone would even think about dating. She was busy and boring and quiet and too analytical - she was _her_. Elizabeth Thornton.

Men just didn’t seem interested. Even Steve, who had quite the apparent record with wooing women, had _never_ even attempted to flirt with her. 

But they were friends. That wasn’t something friends did.

Ted was the main man in her life, her father-figure. Now, she supposes she had Steve too - as a very good friend. But other than that? It always fell through. Despite Ted’s several attempts at setting her up over the years, she just couldn’t find anyone she truly felt a connection with.

No, the only man she had connected with on a deep, personal level was Steve. She knew him, he knew her - better than anyone else. They understood each other, supported one another.

But they were friends. That was something friends did.

Not that she wanted him to, especially after the last few failed attempts (she represses a shudder thinking of the vile men she had escaped from), but Edward Hastings had so far failed to bring any good man into her life. Besides Steve, but he was her friend.

It wasn’t exactly like she put herself out there, only to be declined by men. In fact, Liz made little effort when it came to the dating scene, much rather wanting to naturally meet the person who was right for her one day. She guesses she gets that from her youth-hood reading all those romantic novels.

Maybe she was looking for her own classic literary romantic hero. The Heathcliff to her Catherine, the Darcy to her Elizabeth, the _Rochester_ to her _Jane_.

But, no. The real world did not work like that.

Though, she liked to believe the right man was out there for her. Somewhere. She just had to find him.

Just then, Steve returns to the bar.

He sits back on his stool and offers a friendly smile to the two women. Liz refuses to meet his eye, her own widening as she raises her glass shakily to her lips. Steve frowns at the flustered pink hue tingling her cheeks and neck.

He leans over to Kate, whispering, "Is she alright?"

Kate looks at the woman, studying her clearly embarrassed state and feeling incredibly guilty, before turning back to Steve, "Just had a bit too much wine, that's all."

"As she should, this is a celebration, after all," Steve cheers, turning to order them all another round.

Liz turns, catching Kate's eye. Kate knits her brows together, sympathetically. Liz shakes her head, offering a small yet strained smile, trying to reassure her friend everything was alright.

They were here to celebrate a victory over Lindsay Denton, hopefully putting it behind them, after months of torment and tension.

Liz ignores the twisting of her gut as Steve passes her another glass of wine, brushing it off as her likely irrational anxiety over whatever may come next with Denton. That was all it was.

Why be bothered by something _so completely ludicrous_?


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo! some original stuff! there will be a lot more original stuff between seasons from now on. please let me know what you think, as well as your predictions for what is going to happen! I'm excited!!

"Come in!"

Liz smiles at the group as she opens the door to Hastings's office. Steve, Kate and Dot are sitting on one side of the Superintendent's desk, his computer screen turned their way, as if giving them a briefing of some sort.

"Beth!" The older man smiles as she appears, "I was just giving these three the low-down on a new case. Nothing major, just a harassment accusation."

The others all acknowledge her too, smiling and waving.

"Hey! I just came to drop these off," Liz explains, holding up some brown files.

"Just put them on my desk there," Hastings instructs, "You're welcome to join us if you're not too busy?"

"Sure," Liz accepts with a thankful smile, taking a spare seat from the side of the room and placing it beside Steve. He smiles at her as she sits down.

This had become a more regular occurrence since Denton, and Lizzie's increased involvement with their ongoing cases. In the five months since Lindsay was arrested, Liz had often been invited to sit in on their briefings or discussions, many times helping them to contemplate new perspectives they had not considered. Her insight was valuable to them, and nothing made Liz's heart swell more than the grateful smiles they would send her way when she provided it.

Liz looks at the image on the screen, a picture of a middle-aged man and a young woman both in uniform.

"This is PC Glenn Hurrell," Hastings indicates to the man, then to the woman, "and PC Demi Davis. They are both officers at King Street Station, overseen by the Superintendent Edgar Hart. Now, PC Davis has enclosed to us, under protection, accusations of harassment from PC Hurrell."

"Sir, why are we investigating this? Is it not more a case for HR?" Steve asks.

"This alleged harassment goes beyond a bit of high-school bullying, Steve," Hastings says, leaning forward on his desk and folding his arms.

Liz cringes, only imagining what that poor woman has been put through. She hears enough from many female officers in their appointments to know what some of the men could be capable of.

"Davis reports she is being discriminated against because of her sex by Hurrell, who is only ignored and thus encouraged by the rest of his 95% male branch," Hastings explains.

"And what are we to do about it, sir?" Kate speaks up.

"Well, there is little evidence to back Davis' claims," Hastings sighs, "Wee bugger knows how to avoid cameras, apparently. Been at the branch for several years, everyone seems a bit scared of him."

"We trying to draw him out then, sir?" Dot asks now, "Undercover work?"

"As long as we don't encourage non-typical behaviour and are not seen as manipulating circumstances, then the higher-ups have given us authorised access for infiltration," Hastings informs them.

Liz looks over to Kate, seeing the woman repress an eye roll. Things had been looking up for the woman in the last few months. She, with Lizzie and Steve's help, had found herself a decent flat nearby, and Mark had agreed to allow her to see Josh from time to time. Mark had made sure visits were limited, however, and undercover work only worsened her availability to see him.

Hastings looks to Kate now, "We need you to get that bastard doing what he does on camera. Lure him out of the shadows."

"Sir, I have done undercover work in that branch years before, sir," Kate explains, "I am sure the officers and authorities from that case have moved on by now, but there is the risk someone might know me."

Hastings waves a dismissive hand, "There are ways of getting around that."

"Yes, sir," Kate nods, though Liz hears the slightest hint of frustration.

"This young woman has come to us for help, and that is what we will give her to the best of our ability."

"Sir," Kate says again, her jaw clenched.

"Pretty simple. Engage but don't encourage. You'll be there for two weeks, minimum, depending on what we find."

"I'll do it."

All eyes turn to Liz, then. She flushes slightly at the attention, but looks at Hastings, assuredly. She waits for someone to fill the stunned silence.

"What?" Hastings asks, frowning.

Liz swallows but sets her shoulders, "I said I'll do it."

Another silence.

Liz takes in a quick breath, refusing to let her shoulders slag. She can feel the way the three officers beside her are gazing at her, eyes wide and astonished. She almost wants to laugh at the near-comical way Ted's eyes are bulging in surprise.

"I-" he stutters, "I don't think-"

"You said yourself it was a simple brief," Liz shrugs, maintaining her confident posture the best she could, despite the weight of their stares, "I don't have any clients at that branch, no one knows me. I've had the same training as Kate, too. I'll do it."

"But, Beth, what about-"

"I can reschedule my appointments," she answers, quickly.

"Lizzie-"

Her head whips to Steve, making sure her chin remains lifted with conviction. He is looking at her, as they all were, with curious, wide eyes. Though, unlike the others, his held a glint of disdain in them, making her want to roll her eyes if she were not so set on feigning this air of confidence.

Despite saying her name, he only gapes.

"Yes?" she asks, pretending to not know what he wanted to say. She did, of course, and was already planning her rebuttal.

"You're not-"

"No, I am not an officer but I have the training. Kate is known around that area, I'm not. Surely you know you have overused her for this kind of thing. Officers talk," Liz says, looking beyond Steve to Kate, who stares at her incredulously but admirably. Dot, beyond Kate, is smirking at her, impressed. That emboldens her as she returns her gaze to Steve.

"Yes, they do. So who says they don't know about you?" Steve fairly argues.

Liz immediately responds, "That branch is out of my zone radius. There is another wellbeing officer allocated there, so they won't know me. I hired her myself, and trust her to stay quiet."

"No," Hastings declares, making the group turn to her.

Liz involuntarily sags in her seat, "But-"

"I said, no."

She hears Steve exhale beside her, relieved. While at any other time she would be endeared by his protectiveness, that sigh rattles her nerves.

She wanted this. Needed it, even. After the Denton case, Liz had been restless. She had a taste of being part of the team and now she wanted to divulge. Liz loved her work, she truly did. But she wanted to prove she could offer so much more than just character profiles and analysis.

And she needed to prove to herself that she could do it.

That she could be the officer Ted had wanted her to be, like her father was. Liz has no doubt the primary reason he was denying her now was, not just out of fatherly protectiveness, but because he doubted her ability. He thinks she will mess up again, jeopardise the mission. Liz was not so unsure of that herself, but she needed to believe it.

And if it meant Kate had the time to see her son again, she would do anything.

"A young woman is being harassed," Liz says to the older man, calmly yet assertive, "It is our duty to stop that from happening to her and to so many others."

She watches him close his eyes and sigh.

Knowing she was getting to him, Liz pushes, "To not do anything is to accept and encourage it. Do you?"

The three officers look between the young woman and their superior, each feeling slightly awkward as she defies him. The Superintendent only looks at his goddaughter, contemplating it all.

Kate sighs at the silence, deciding to speak up, "Sir, I think Liz is more than capable of this mission."

All eyes turn to her, Kate catching Liz's grateful glint before looking Hastings in the eye, "She makes a valid point. Several, actually. To send me is too much of a risk. Liz has the training. Perhaps not the experience - but this is a small operation. This is the perfect chance for her to gain that experience."

Hasting's eyes flick from Kate back to his goddaughter, who raises an emboldened, challenging brow.

"And you?" Hastings says, turning to Dot.

Liz looks over to see the taller man sit straighter in his seat, gaze flicking to her before clearing his throat and addressing the Superintendent, "I think her more than suitable and _capable_ of this mission, sir."

He looks back at her then, smirking at the wide smile spreading across Liz's face.

"Sir-" Steve then calls out, infuriated by the two officers beside him, "she doesn't have the experience. If not Kate, then there are plenty of experienced informer officers who can do it-"

" _She_ is sitting right here," Liz scolds, "and _can_ do it."

"And I will help her every step of the way," Kate insists, "Regular check-ups, reconnaissance - we won't be leaving Liz to handle it alone."

Liz nods at her friend, looking back to Hastings, eagerly.

The older man sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb.

"Your mother's spirit is going to haunt me to the grave for this," he mutters under his breath.

Liz feels her breath hitch in her throat. He is considering it.

He looks up at her after another moment of strained silence. Then, voice quiet and regretful, "I'll call the head office and see if it can be arranged."

Liz bites back a squeal, looking to Kate and Dot thankfully. She ignores Steve, who is trying desperately to catch her eye, no doubt to scorn her and convince her out of it.

But her mind was made up. She wanted this, _needed_ it.

"Thank you," Liz says to the older man, who looks away from her regretfully.

"I'll send you over the files, including all the details on your cover," he informs, "Dismissed."

The four stand from their seats. Liz can feel Steve's glare radiating onto the side of her face, so she rushes from the room as quick as she can to avoid him.

Almost jogging in the direction of her office, Liz sighs when he catches up to her.

"Lizzie," he says, quietly, keeping up with her quick pace.

"Steve," Liz quips back, finally reaching her office and opening the door.

He barges his way through before she can stop him.

Steve waits for her to close the door behind herself, standing with his hands planted on his hips and frown cutting through his forehead.

Liz turns to him, immediately folding her arms, defensively. She raises a brow at him, expectantly.

He knows she knows what he is going to say, but he _needs_ to say it.

"You're not doing it," he scorns.

She scoffs, moving past him around to the other side of her desk though remains standing.

"What I do is not up to you," she bites. What right did he have to question her? "You don't have a problem sending Kate in all the time."

"You're not Kate," Steve states through a clenched jaw.

Liz recoils. How could something so cold be said so heatedly? After all they went through with Denton and their anxieties over people doubting their ability, he was bringing this up again? He was doubting her, _again_?

Steve had made a point of referencing her lack of experience in the office, pleading for Hastings to deny her request. That's what he thought of her. Despite all the times he had reassured her in the past, and after months of being fine, Steve Arnott still distrusts her ability.

Just as Hastings does.

That thought burns in her throat as she growls, bitterly, "No. No, I am not. I'm just _Lizzie_."

Steve sighs, though the breath comes out shakily. His voice quietens as he looks at his shoes, "I didn't mean it like that."

"Oh?" Lizzie frowns, sarcastically, "Then how did you mean it?"

The man hesitates, still looking awkwardly at his shoes.

Believing to be proven right, Liz shakes her head and chuckles, darkly.

"I just don't want to see you hurt."

Liz's head snaps to the man at his timid admission.

Steve is looking over at her with earnest eyes. She softens. _Oh._

Her hands drop to her sides, rubbing her thighs awkwardly as the pair stand in silence.

"I'll be fine," Liz assures, a small smile appearing on her face to signal her understanding and forgiveness, "Hastings won't let anything happen to me and Kate will be helping me every step of the way. And I have _you_ , too."

Steve mirrors her gentle smile, nodding. He exhales, swallowing his pride and relenting for a moment. She was right. He could see how much she wanted this. He also knew, though she would likely never admit it, how much it would mean to her to prove to Hastings she was capable of a successful mission. Steve did not yet know what had happened for her to have been removed from her role as an officer so soon after training, only knowing something occurred during an op from when she had briefly, hastily mentioned it almost a year ago. There had never been a right time to ask.

"Speaking of Kate," Liz says, before he has the chance to speak, "Have you seen her new place yet?"

She gestures for him to sit down, taking a seat herself, the conversation now light and friendly.

He accepts, shaking his head at her question, "No, not yet. Haven't had the time."

"Ah," Liz smiles, "Because of all those dates you're going on?"

Steve feels cheeks heat slightly, shaking his head with a smile at her teasing tone.

"How are things going with you and Sam anyway?" Liz asks, curious.

Steve shifts slightly in his seat, somehow uncomfortable, "Alright. Yeah. Good."

Liz is taken back by his almost bashful tone, unsure as to why he looked so awkward now. But things had seemed to be going well for the man. About two months ago he had taken Sam Railston, a young DS from Murder Squad, on a first date. She was pretty, _very_ pretty. Despite not knowing much else about the woman, Liz could see he liked her. Liz had been surprised to hear they planned on going on a second - that did not seem to be Steve's typical venture. But, it had shown to her that he had changed. He must really like the woman.

Liz snorts, forgetting herself.

"What is it?" he asks.

Liz shakes her head, "I just didn't know you were capable of keeping a woman in your life for longer than one night."

Steve guffaws at her nerve, though cannot help but grin when he sees her badgering smirk. That was something they did now; teasing. After everything with Denton and their argument, the best way to deal with it had been to joke. He supposes Liz had plenty of ammunition against him. In fact, he had practically served it to her on a silver platter since he met her.

While Liz had forgiven him for his boyish antics - not that it should matter to her, anyway - it was still fun to twist the knife in every now and then!

Steve opens his mouth to rebuke, but she cuts him off, "Your mother doesn't count. And neither do me or Kate."

"What? Why?" Steve frowns, though laughing, "Of course you count!"

"Because I am your _friend_ ," she shrugs in jest.

"Well, I'm offended," Steve leans back casually in his seat, "you clearly don't know me as well as you think you do."

Liz leans back too, mockingly mimicking his pose, "I do know you, Arnott. And I know you deserve someone as lovely as she sounds. I am happy for you, Steve. Really."

Steve feels his chest constrict at the suddenly sincere tone.

Liz feels the shift too, thinking of something quick to say to lighten it again, "Just don't scare her off with your idiotic antics. I might be able to put up with it, but there are few other women who will. Hurt her and I will set Kate on you. Then, God help you."

Steve chuckles, knowing that to be true.

Liz smiles, looking to her computer to check her emails. Her attention is soon caught again by Steve speaking up, "What about you?"

"What about me?" she frowns, curiously.

"Anyone I need to look out for?" he says, while exaggeratedly hitting and grinding his fist into his other palm.

Liz snorts, rolling her eyes at the unimpressive display, " _Intimidating_."

Steve drops his hands, pouting childishly.

Liz chuckles herself before considering his question, "And no. There isn't. Don't have the time."

She feels her stomach drop as Steve only nods, slowly. Not that she would admit it was to herself, but even _he_ knows that is a poor excuse.

"Ted tricked me into many dates with any young officers he came across," Liz explains, gladly breaking the disbelieving silence, "He likes to _think_ of himself as a good judge of character. But obviously not, especially when it comes to my potential love life."

Steve's lips quirk into an amused smile, "I remember you insisting once he was a _great_ judge of character. Said that was why he hired _me_."

Liz shrugs, offhandedly, "Everyone makes mistakes."

The pair laugh, Steve looking at his watch before standing.

"I should be off, got another meeting in five," he waves as he walks to the door.

"I'll catch you later at my briefing?" Liz asks, a small part of her hoping he will be there to support her with this every step of the way. The nerves were beginning to kick in. With his apparent acceptance, it finally felt real.

"Of course," he nods, opening the door and stepping out, "See you then."

"Yeah, see you," Liz says as Steve closes the door behind him.

With him gone, she takes a look around the small, empty office and the few unread emails she needed to reply to.

_Don't have the time, my arse._

* * *

A few days later and having been given the all-clear from Head Office, Liz was briefed and swiftly integrated into the King Street branch. It had been going well, the advice she had received from Kate had been imperative; save face, save lives.

This evening, Liz was headed to her first reconnaissance meeting with the woman, to tell her everything she had experienced so far and what was to come. She was looking forward to seeing her friend, having found the last few days rather tough without her there. They had text when they could, Liz extremely cautious when doing so after what had happened with Denton and Kate's phone. Liz also wanted to inquire about Saoirse - being in a new accommodation to avoid being followed to her personal home, Kate had offered to flat-sit and care for her cat.

Wrapping her coat further around herself and folding her arms to keep it there, tightly securing her body from the harsh nightly cold, Liz approaches the underpass where they had arranged to meet.

Expecting to see Kate, she was surprised to find the woman was not waiting for her there at all. Instead, it was Steve.

A grin grows on her face as she sees him, looking down the other way as he waits for her to arrive. He turns at the sound of her footsteps approaching, lips turning upward in a small smile.

"Hey," he says as she comes to stand in front of him.

"Hey?" Liz greets, though questioningly raising an eyebrow, "Where's Kate?"

Steve pushes aside any disheartened feeling at her question, the smile on her face assuring him she _was_ glad to see _him_ , and shrugs, "Busy."

Liz's brow raises higher. Busy? But Kate knew they had their meeting scheduled for tonight. Seeing Steve unwilling to expand on that abrupt explanation, and also not really minding at all, Liz just continues to smile. Just as she had been excited to see Kate, she was grateful to see his face now too. It was strange to have been in another branch and not seeing either of their faces every day, as she had done for almost two years now.

"How is everyone?" Liz asks.

Steve nods, putting his hands in his pockets, "Good, yeah. Thinking of you, of course."

Liz feels her heart swell, her smile growing at his sincerity.

"How is it going?" Steve asks, then swallowing. He had been anxiously waiting for news from her since she left their briefing five days ago. It had almost driven him mad, that nagging feeling in his chest when he thought of her there with that man. While he could see she was thrilled, grateful to have the opportunity, Steve could not help but believe it too dangerous for someone as inexperienced as her. Yes, she had training but that often meant nothing in the field. It comes down to nerve and intellect. Not that he didn't believe Lizzie had either of those things. She did. But Lizzie was his friend. How could he not be concerned she was being sent off to trap a possibly dangerous man? Sure, PC Glenn Hurrell has only been accused of harassment. But after everything with Gates and Denton and _Georgia_ , he knew what was out there and what people were capable of. How could he not worry?

Hastings had given him another assignment in the meantime. Just some fraud, nothing to worry about. He assumed the older man had sensed his apprehension about Lizzie, most likely feeling the same way himself, and given him something to keep his mind off it. But it hasn't worked. Steve's hand had hovered over his phone numerous times in the past few days, wanting to call and check on her. He never did, worried it would expose her, making the situation worse. She would never forgive him for that.

Liz takes in a breath, heart melting slightly at the anxious glint in his eye as he waits for her answer, "No issues so far."

Steve feels his shoulders drop, relieved.

"A little bit of flirting," she continues, his shoulders immediately tensing again as she does, "but nothing I haven't had before. Reminds me a bit of those TO-20 boys."

"Oh God," Steve chuckles despite the uneasy aches brewing in his chest, "That bad, huh? Should get you out of there as soon as possible."

He was only half-joking.

Liz chuckles too, "If I can survive Nigel Morton, I can survive anything."

Steve nods his head with an amused grin. She made a fair point.

"So nothing to corroborate Demi Davis' claims?" Steve asks, reminding himself he was there for actual intel, not just to see Lizzie was safe.

"Like I said, it is more school-boy banter than anything. A bit of flirting and the odd borderline-misogynistic comment here and there," Liz rolls her eyes, "But nothing explicitly that would call for a charge."

"Are you…" Steve begins, immediately clamping his jaw shut as he does, regretfully.

"Am I what?" Liz asks, confused by his now bashful expression and the way he was avoiding her eye.

"Are you flirting back?"

Her jaws hangs open slightly, eyebrows knitting together in bewilderment, "What does that have to do with anything?"

Steve gawks at her for a moment, thinking of a save, "Well, you can't be seen to be initiating or enticing anything, remember?"

"Yes, Steve, I remember. Hastings was very clear in the briefing that I was also present at and paying attention to," Liz holds back an eye roll, instead gazing at him assertively, "And even if I was... I am undercover. I can't _not_ interact with the suspect."

This was him doubting her again. Liz knew he had surrendered to her plea to do this. But she had not doubted he would remain stubborn in his opinion.

Steve just looks at her, eyes softening apologetically. Liz notices this, her own expression and tone softening, "Besides, Glenn Hurrell is about twenty years too old for me. It would be like dating Ted."

Steve guffaws, letting out a laugh as Liz cringes, a humoured glint appearing in her own eye.

"So you don't think you will be on the case much longer, then?" Steve prompts, hopeful.

Liz shakes her head, "Actually, there has been a small development."

Steve's brows quirk upward, inquisitively.

She sighs, "I have been invited to the Bunch of Grapes bar tomorrow night, for some social drinks. Me, or should I say _Alice Hawkins_ , and a few of the others in the unit will be there - Hurrell included. I have never been to that bar before, so Glenn said he would give me a lift. Do you know it?"

Steve feels his throat tighten. He swallows in an attempt to loosen it before speaking, "Uh, no. No I don't."

Liz hums, shrugging, "Sounds like a laugh. Would have made up an excuse but need to keep up the act, I suppose."

Steve only gawks at her.

"Anyway, it's late," Liz says, noticing the time on her phone as it glows in her hand from a text notification from Kate, "I should head back. Need to be up early for work tomorrow."

Steve huffs, amused by her mocking tone. But his chest is, weirdly, burning too much to talk.

"See you soon. Give everyone my best wishes," Liz says, turning away from Steve with a final goodnight and heading out of the underpass.

She looks back, briefly, to see Steve walking in the opposite direction. Liz felt a new sense of pride and encouragement after having seen Steve tonight. The last few days had been rather… lonely. She had even felt, at times, rather lost. But their short meeting had reminded her what she was doing it for, and who she had supporting her.

Turning to her phone, she reads the new text from Kate.

**Kate: _He insisted x_**

Liz smiles, her coat billowing around her. The night is cold, but she feels warm.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! happy one month anniversary to this fic! I have enjoyed writing this so much, and love hearing from all of you about your thoughts on it! the last few days have been and the next week will be a bit tricky for me to write, as I am moving away to university for my final year. But I promise you I have not abandoned this and will keep writing as soon as I have the chance!

"Do you know when the others are getting here?" Liz asks the man beside her at the bar, I thought you said they were coming at seven?"

It has been almost an hour, and still no sign of any other Kings Street officers. She thought this was supposed to be a branch social.

"Must be running late," he shrugs, taking a sip of his second beer, "Am I not good enough company for you, eh?"

Liz ignores the sinking feeling in her stomach and feigns a coy smile, "More than enough."

The older man looks at her, eyes raking illiberally over her body. She cringes, regretting her choice of attire. The short denim skirt felt almost shameful under his ogling gaze. One thing she was glad for was the quickly-disappearing drink in her hand and having worn her hair down to shield her face as she rolled her eyes at his innuendos.

Perhaps she had played down his antics to Steve at their reconnaissance meeting. Liz had not lied, there was little to charge him for. It was mostly just crude comments and philandering - as she had said, school-boyish banter common amongst coppers. If it were anything worse, she would have said. Liz now had a duty to PC Demi Davis to do her best to find evidence of her claims. But Liz had not wanted to worry Steve.

Not that she would admit it to anyone, certainly not him, but there had come a point she had locked herself in a bathroom stall just to get away from the unwanted attention for a moment. It was overbeating at times. No wonder Davis had complained. Liz was mostly bothered by the way it made her feel, scolding herself for letting it bother her. She had met plenty of men like that, even putting a few of them in their place after various incidents.

But this man, PC Glenn Hurrell, was worse. Something, though she did not know what, was off. Maybe it was the way he stared at her across the office as she worked., not even ashamedly looking away when she lifted her gaze to his. Or the way he would stand way too close, as he was now, wrapping an arm around her whenever he could. Or even the way everyone in the office, including the Superintendent, seemed too unbothered to bother him about it.

There were few times she had allowed herself to be alone in a room with him, despite knowing it was the best way Liz could get damning evidence of any kind of harassment. Liz had only agreed to tonight as she knew others would be around them. They may have shown little care towards her, some even encouraging his antics with laughs and their own comments. But the idea of there being someone else to see her and keep an eye on him made her feel more at ease. But only by a little.

Hurrell had offered to drive her here. Liz had agreed initially, to keep up the pretence, but told Hurrell at work earlier that day she was being dropped off by her brother on his way to work instead. Alice Hawkins' brother worked late nights at the local hospital, you see. Hurrell had almost growled in disappointment.

Liz had actually walked, still not having a car herself and knowing she would be drinking - even just to bare it.

"So," Hurrell begins, standing from his stool to lean one arm against the bar much closer to her. Liz resists the urge to shuffle her stool backward away from him, "how are you finding Kings so far?"

She maintains the feigned friendly smile on her face, "It's alright, yeah. The work is a little dull, but I like the people."

"Really?" Hurrell asks, brow raising as his smirk grows, haughtily, "Even me?"

"Especially you," Liz giggles, swallowing down some bile.

He leers at her, face leaning in close. Liz straightens, forcing herself to stay put, "You know, I thought so."

She wants to laugh, but can't find the nerve.

"In fact," his face draws in even closer, his breath hot and heavy on her face, "that's why I brought you here, tonight."

She frowns, though forces the enticing smile to remain fixed, "What do you mean?"

Her stomach drops as his smirk widens, cruelly, "You know, you're a pretty little thing, Alice."

Liz remains quiet, unsure what to say as his hand creeps along the bartop to cover hers. She refuses to flinch at his sweaty palms, instead turning her palm to caringly clasp it back.

" _Very_ pretty," he grunts, the other sweaty hand reaching slowly for her knee where it perches on the stool.

Liz looks up at him, eyes almost watering at the overbearing contact and soggy stench of alcohol lingering on his breath, and takes in his overpowering size. His body alone made for two of her. Even from where she sat on the stool, he towered above her.

"What do you say?" Hurrell snarls, leaning in close to whisper it in her ear, supposedly seductively.

Liz curses herself for shuddering, the older man likely mistaking it for exhilaration.

"Your wife might have something to say," Liz croaks through her dry throat.

She tries not to panic as he pulls back to look her suggestively in the eye.

"And I thought you said the others were arriving soon."

She tries not to panic as his hand clamps her fingers down onto the bar.

"Shouldn't we wait for them?"

She tries not to panic as his other clammy hand slides further up her thigh.

"Sounds like you're making excuses to me," Hurrel growls, lickng his lower lip. Liz cringes at the drool now glistening there. She almost did not hear him over the sound of her own heartbeat thumping in her ears. It hits her then, the others weren't coming at all. This had all been a trick.

She tries not to panic as his hand dips under her skirt-

" _Alice_!"

Her head snaps to the side, exhaling deeply as she feels Hurrell's hand hastily unclench her thigh.

A familiar young man approaches them at the bar. Liz feels her chest constrict as she realises who it is that called her alias' name.

"St-" Liz stops herself, careful not to blow cover with her surprise, " _Stuart_?"

The man comes over, Liz finally able to stand from her stall to greet him. She smiles, aware Hurrell is watching, curiously and undoubtedly outraged at his interrupted advance. Steve - or _Stuart_ opens his arms, encircling her in a hug, moving their bodies so he was now between her and the older man.

The pair pull back, Liz shaking her head, "What are you doing here?"

She was actually curious to know why her friend was here, interrupting her operation.

Steve, his back turned to Hurrell, sends her a look. His jaw was tight, eyes wide and brow deeply creased. Heavy, quick breaths escaped him, his chest rising and falling rapidly. On her waist, she could feel his hands clenching. Liz had seen this before. Steve was furious.

"Oh, just here with some friends," Steve shrugs, eyes fixated on hers as he glowers, though keeping his voice light so the man behind him had no reason to be suspicious.

Steve turns then to Hurrell, looking up at the much larger man. He squares his body, positioning himself to almost completely block her from him.

"Stuart, this is Glenn. He works at my new station," Liz smiles, gesturing to the older man, as friendly as she could despite the lingering ache on her thigh where his hand just was.

Hurrell looks between them, confused, but puts out a hand for Steve to shake. Steve doesn't take it.

Liz watches Hurrell shift uncomfortably under the shorter man's glare, dropping his hand.

"Was meeting David in a bit, am sure he would love to see you," Steve states, turning his body slightly more to Liz but keeping his eye fixed on Hurrell, warningly.

"Oh! David, yeah," Liz continues the lie, "Haven't seen him in ages."

Liz glances to Hurrell, seeing the man's own fists begin to shake as he swallows his anger.

"You wouldn't mind, would you, Glenn?"

The man scoffs at her question, turning on his heel and hastily stalking away from the bar. The pair continues to watch him until he leaves, the bar door swinging violently behind him.

Liz collapses onto her stool once he is out of sight, exhaling.

Steve keeps his eye on the door for a moment longer, making sure he is definitely gone, then turns to Liz.

She glares up at him, asking again for a real answer, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Getting you out," Steve claims, determined, taking a hold of her wrist and pulling her off the stall along behind him.

"What?" Liz says, too delirious from what had happened to resist his insistent touch.

 _Warm_ , Liz thinks. _Not clammy_.

Steve ignores her, focussed on pulling her through the tables in the bar, careful to keep his grip on Lizzie fairly light so as to not hurt her.

"You just ruined the operation!" she shouts, his silence grating. She felt a little delirious, from the alcohol and almost-assault.

He ignores her again, clearly irritated but holding himself back from berating her.

"Steve, what are you-" she stops, pulling her wrist from his grip.

He had pulled her over to a table in the far-left corner of the bar. There, sitting beside a pile of jackets and looking at the two of them, bewildered, was Sam Railston. Steve's girlfriend.

Liz sighs, rubbing a frustrated hand over her forehead. _The nerve of this man…_

Sam looks up at them as they approach, eyes flicking between her and Steve. She was clearly perturbed, her eyes lingering on Steve questioningly. Liz also noted her somewhat deflated posture. She was wearing a nice dress. This had clearly been a date - for her anyway.

"Hi," Liz offers, trying to smile at the woman.

"Hey," she quietly responds, voice a little hoarse as she continues to glare at Steve.

The man clears his throat, looking awkwardly to his shoes. He takes in a breath before looking up at Liz, ignoring the perplexed gaze of his girlfriend, "My car is just outside."

"No," Liz defies, feeling her frustration start to boil, "I can walk."

"No," he argues, "I am taking you home."

Liz flicks her eyes over to Sam, who is downing the last of her drink, evidently dismayed by their bickering and wondering about whatever the hell was going on. Liz wondered too.

Steve picks up the jackets, offering Sam her own before walking to the door. Opening it with his arm, he gestures with his head adamantly for them to follow. Liz sends an apologetic glance to Sam before glowering at Steve as she passes with a huff.

Feeling the immediate relief begin to subside, Liz feels her anger bubble to the surface, rounding on Steve as soon as they step outside.

"You can't just waltz in on an operation like that and mess everything up-"

"Lizzie-"

"I told you which bar I would be at last night. You said you didn't know it. Am I supposed to believe that it is just a coincidence you are here, specifically, for a date?"

"I only wanted to-"

"You just couldn't help yourself, could you? I finally have this chance and you just don't trust me to see it through-"

"You know that isn't true. I know you're capable-"

"And now I haven't got any evidence. And it is all your fault-"

"Evidence?!" Steve shouts, wanting to be heard, "Was that not enough?!"

Liz rolls her eyes, refusing to let the tears pricking at them fall, "But it wasn't even in the workplace. So none of it is relevant to Davis' claims-"

"How far were you going to let it go?"

Liz remains silent, choking on her words as he asks that question.

"How far were you going to let it go just to prove a point?" Steve repeats, voice softer now as his heart pumps fast at the look on the woman's face.

Liz only stares at him, blankly.

How far _was_ she going to let it go? And what _point_ was she trying to prove?

That Ted could be proud of her? That she was just as good as Kate? That Steve could trust her? That she was capable?

In all of those senses; yes. There _was_ a point to prove.

It had gone too far. Liz knows that. It was not necessarily her fault, but it had. Despite all the training and all the advice, the situation had gotten out of control and she froze. If it had not been for Steve showing up, who knows what could have happened?

She had seen how obsessed Steve had become with proving his point during the Denton case - she had even berated him for it. But Liz could only call herself a hypocrite for falling into the same had worked out for him, yes. But Steve was clever, a good officer. He had considered the possibilities and the potential dangers. He had even tried to warn her beforehand, but she refused to listen, convinced by her own _need_ to fulfil a point.

It almost scared her how convinced she had become that she needed to find justice for PC Demi Davis, by any means necessary. Had she even considered what those means could be? It was a harassment case, possibly motivated by gender, of course there was that chance. And yet she was still so self-centred, obsessed with proving her worth to herself and others that it had lost control. Was it even about justice to begin with?

She was never going to give him what he wanted, to have sex with the man. She would not let herself go that far. But how far was she going to let _him_ go? It scared her. Liz had no clue what could have happened or what she could have done.

All this proved was Liz was bad at this. The worst thing was she was not even surprised.

"I am not going to whore myself out for an investigation, Steve," Liz says, a little more pointedly than she meant to, still feeling bitter, "I'm not like that."

"I know," he assures, gently, seeing the way her eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

The pair just look at each other for a moment, taking a breath and steadying themselves.

Of course she was grateful Steve had shown up. His protectiveness - or doubt, whichever way you wanted to look at it - irritated her to no end. But without him… she didn't even want to think about it.

She was still infuriated. Not necessarily at him, but with the situation. On one hand, in the scenario where he didn't show, she could have let it go too far and breached the rules, as well as her own violation - ruining the operation. Second, she could have fought Hurrell, refused his advances and blown her cover - ruining the operation. Or thirdly, as had happened, Steve Arnott could show up, step up to Hurrell and drag her away, saving her decency but ruining the operation.

Either way this could have gone, she would have failed. She was a failure.

Liz had been right, Steve thinks. He couldn't help himself. He hardly slept last night, thinking of the two of them at the bar together. Him; an accused harasser who manby did little to challenge. Her; a young woman drinking and vulnerable. When Sam had mentioned them going for drinks, the name of the bar that had been plaguing his mind slipped out before he could stop it. Steve knows it was unfair, that he had been incredibly selfish. He certainly had a lot of explaining to do on Sam's end. But Liz… he knew how much this meant to her, and he blew it. But it was for her own good, he believes.

To him, Lizzie has nothing to prove. She was selfless, successful and respected. Kind, understanding and compassionate. So many things he wishes he was.

Seeing her tonight at the bar with that man repulsed him. He should have done more to stop it. He should never have let her take this case. It was nauseating, seeing the man make his advances. Seeing a man touch her like that. His blood boiled in his veins, heating his face and fists. Steve thought that was bad enough, but the worst thing had been Lizzie's reaction.

He had never seen that look on her face; one so bewildered, so appalled and...scared. It made his throat sore; the wanting to scream out but not wanting to put her in more danger. Sam had been talking to him, some mundane story from work today. But it was muffled. Like he was underwater, drowning. All he could focus on was the way the man's hand was gripping her thigh, and the way her eyes widened in fear.

He almost held back, knowing how upset she would be if he were to step in. But one thought had flooded into his mind; _why?_

Lizzie - _his_ Lizzie - was being subjected to assault from such a vile man; and for what?

To gather evidence against PC Glenn Hurrell based on statements made by PC Demi Davis about a harassment file? That was his job, he knows. But it was not good enough.

He had not even given him the time to contemplate it more before he had stood from his seat, ignoring Sam's calls and fixated on his path towards them.

Sobered by the cool, night air, Liz looks past Steve's shoulder to Sam who stands awkwardly with her arms folded, looking around anywhere but at them.

She had not even met the woman yet and here she was arguing with her boyfriend in the middle of the street after a near-assault by a man during an undercover operation that had now failed. Quite the first-impression.

Liz looks back at Steve, eyes gesturing to Sam before quirking a worried brow. Steve nods, knowing he was in for a right bollocking when they got back to his.

He turns, walking over and muttering something inaudible to her, Sam then nodding and heading to the car without even waiting for them to follow. Steve rushes slightly to catch up to her step, looking behind him to check Liz was still behind them.

Liz follows the couple to Steve's car, not really wanting to walk home alone late and slightly intoxicated, especially after what occurred in there. Anyone could be out there. Hurrell could be. She climbing into the back, slightly unwillingly. Then again, Liz felt a pull to just wander around in the chill, taking in the quiet and processing what had just happened. But she also knew Steve would not leave her until she subsided and let him drive her home.

The drive back was as awkward as expected. Steve often glances at Sam sitting beside him, looking blankly out the window, and then in the mirror to Liz in the back seat, who's eyes flicker awkwardly between the couple in the front.

Steve sighs, quietly so neither of them could hear. Liz does.

Deciding to attempt to break the painful silence in the car, Liz leans forward, "Hi."

Sam turns at her voice, prompting Liz to hold out her hand, "I'm Elizabeth. Steve calls me Lizzie, but most people call me Liz."

The other woman takes her hand, weakly, giving it only one shake, "Sam."

Liz tries not to visibly show her disappointment when the woman returns to gazing out of the window. She glances at Steve, who looks as though he was trying not to roll his eyes at his girlfriend's annoyance.

 _Yeah_ , he thinks, _I am in for a big bollocking._

Liz leans back in her seat, unable to not feel slightly sorry for the woman. Her irritation was justified. She had thought she was going out for a date with her boyfriend when suddenly he just so happens to be jumping into his colleague's undercover operation that just so happens to be taking place at the bar he just so happens to have suggested. Oh, and he just so happens to have brought his car, suggesting he was not intending on even drinking at this date seeing as he planned to drive home. Liz cringes as she thinks this over. She wants to be grateful, to be touched by his concern. But she cannot help but feel sorry for the woman. Steve had good intentions, she was sure. But yet again, it gave the impression he only cared for himself.

Was it? Liz's stomach suddenly flutters, uncomfortably. Was all this just for him and his ego? Wouldn't be the first time that was a possible motive. Perhaps, he was just trying to impress Sam. They had been together a couple of months now, but it was still early-days. Liz was under the impression things were going well, so why would he feel the need to endanger her mission for such an unnecessary reason? Sam didn't exactly look that impressed, so would he really go to such lengths at Lizzie's expense? But even then, Steve was one of the biggest show-boats she had ever met. It wouldn't be unlikely he needed his ego stroked.

Liz winces at her harshness. He, in essence, had done her a huge favour. She knows Steve is often motivated by his need to prove himself to others. But to ruin an operation like that - _her_ operation - she finds it hard to believe he would do that for anything other than her own good. He cared about her, she knows that now. He had admitted before in her office after she volunteered that he just wanted her safe. That had to be what this was about.

She would do the same for him.

They pull up outside her apartment, Liz saying a quick goodbye to Sam, only to receive a small muttering back. Steve insists on getting out of the car and walking her to the front door. She goes to argue she is fine, but realises it is probably more for his peace of mind than hers, so stays quiet. Approaching her door, Liz turns, briefly glancing at his girlfriend in the car before looking back to Steve.

"Thank you," she says, hoping it comes across as sincere as she meant it.

Steve nods, a small smile appearing on his face, not entirely sure what to say. He only feels relieved she is now home, safe.

Liz's eyes suddenly widen, her stomach sinking with dread, "What will I say to Ted?"

"Let me handle it," Steve says, placing a comforting hand on her upper arm. She immediately relaxes, her breathing becomes regular again after a few deep huffs, "Just get some rest. You deserve it."

"Do I?" Liz murmurs under her breath, though he hears it and frowns.

"Lizzie, you did all you could," Steve squeezes the hand on her arm.

She shakes her head, "No, there was more I could have done. Not necessarily then, but I should have secured some evidence like I was supposed-"

"We have enough. You did enough," Steve assures, the hand on her arm now rubbing up and down, "More than enough."

Liz stares at him, disbelieving, while at the same time her chest puffs slightly.

Steve accepts the confused juxtaposed reaction as the best he was going to get. That was Lizzie - complex.

"Get some sleep," Steve says, dropping his hand back into his pocket and beginning to turn away, "I'll see you tomorrow at the office?"

"If I am brave enough to show my face, yes," Lizzie jokes, Steve rolling his eyes and huffing in frustrated amusement, "Goodnight, Steve. And thank you, again."

She sees him nod, then walk to his car where Sam continues sitting in silence and staring out the front window. Liz winces as they pull away.

Yet, she then allows herself to smile.

Both out of relief of being _home_ with her own comforts and cat for the first time after a rather gruelling week. And also out of relief that Steve Arnott, as always, had been there for her.

No matter his intentions; arrogance, to impress Sam or out of genuine concern - he has saved her from Hurrell. How could she be mad when she was just glad to never have to deal with that man ever again?

At least, she hopes.

* * *

Liz exhales nervously as the lift doors open, welcoming her back to the AC-12 office.

She had been awake all night, dreading this moment.

Keeping her head down, hair veiling the sides of her reddening face, she hurriedly walks to her office. She can hear the business of the office around her but Liz does her best to block it out, fixated on her door. Relieved to have made it without running into anyone, Liz closes the door behind her and throws her bag onto a seat. Sighing, she lifts her hot chocolate to her mouth and chugs back a large gulp.

Disappointed to find the now luke-warm liquid has done little to settle her nerves, Liz throws the empty cup into her bin and irritatedly groans. Shaking her head in refute of her anxiety, she takes a few deep breaths and steels herself as she turns to her door. Reaching out a somewhat shaky hand, Liz lifts her chin up in feigned confidence and opens the door.

_Just get it done._

Liz strides through the office, careful to avoid direct eye contact with anyone. Though, to her grateful surprise, no one seems to even be looking her way. Had they not heard? How she had _failed_? That she had to be _rescued_ from her own operation?

Kate had dealt with this sort of embarrassment before. Liz remembers how much Kate had beaten herself up over being discovered by Denton and her undercover mission falling through. But Kate was an experienced, highly-skilled UCO DC. It was acceptable for her to fail, as it showed the situation was out of anyone's control. But what was Liz? An over-glorified HR admin with god-daddy issues, something to prove and nothing to lose who allowed herself to be assaulted by the dumbest man she had ever had the displeasure of meeting. Pathetic.

Speaking of Kate, Liz winces as she hears the woman call out for her.

Attempting to keep walking, pretending not to have heard her, Liz bites back a defeated growl when her friend comes up beside her, a gentle hand holding her back by her upper arm.

"Liz," Kate greets, sighing at the chagrin on the other woman's face as she tries to avoid her eye, "You alright? Steve told me what happened."

Kate frowns as Liz swallows at the mention of the man.

"I'm fine," Liz nods, timidly, "Not sure if I would be if he hadn't shown up."

"Yeah, well," Kate says, folding her arms and tightening her jaw, "As soon as the gratefulness dies down, let me kick his arse for you, yeah?"

Liz feels herself smile, chortling quietly, "Not until I get to do it myself, first."

Kate smiles, relieved her friend seems to be peaking up, even just a little bit. She knows how difficult this must be for her friend. Liz constantly felt she needed to prove herself and it frustrated Kate to no end that she had not yet realised she did not have any need to. Kate almost feels guilty, knowing Liz had always compared herself to her since they met at training. Liz was not an incapable officer by any means. In fact, she excelled in strategy and finding new perspectives that more often than not lead to successful operations. But, Liz was gentle. When it came to force, she struggled. Kate, a woman who grew up with a lot of anger and the need of discipline, revelled in the areas of defence and deception. Aggressive and disingenuous were two things Elizabeth Thornton was not and could never be.

But that was not only why Kate felt guilty for what had happened to Liz. Kate knows Liz did it, not just for herself, but for _her_. She knew how much Kate wanted to make an effort with her son and to prove to Mark she was a capable and loving mother. Going undercover again so soon would have ruined that chance. Kate also had no doubt Liz was distressed about 'failing' to find PC Demi Davis justice, having heard so much about the effect this kind of behaviour has on people through her meetings. Liz had not just thought of herself but others too. She put herself in that terrible situation for the betterment of everyone. That was something Kate had always been envious of _her_ for.

"You shouldn't beat yourself up about it," Kate says, voice quiet so no one around them can pry, "Shit happens. God knows how many times I have been in similar situations while undercover. And I didn't have big, brave DS Steve Arnott watching my back."

Liz huffs, both embarrassed and amused.

Kate smirks, "You did the best you could do. I know that."

The other woman's chest puffs a little and her shoulders roll back, though Kate notices the pride does not quite reach her eyes. Liz doesn't believe her. She isn't convinced. But she knows Kate means it. And that was all Kate could ask for, knowing, despite not having done anything wrong at all, it will take a while for her friend to process what has happened and forgive herself.

"Thanks, Kate," Liz sends her a sad but thankful smile. It really did warm her heart that her two closest friends, even if Steve _had_ simultaneously irritated the hell out of her, knew she was finding this difficult and had tried to assure her.

Liz feels immediately more emboldened by the not-as-embarrassing-as-expected encounter with Kate. She stands a little straighter and excuses herself, promising to catch up with her friend later over a coffee, knowing Steve likely left out a few incriminating details in his version of the story.

Reaching the Superintendent's office and knocking on the door, Liz takes in a deep breath as to not deflate when she hears the voice calling her in. Opening the door, Liz concentrates her expression, as she had put into practice many times throughout her recent operation.

"Ah, Beth," Hastings says, standing from his desk and smiling when he sees her, "How are you-"

"Ted, I am so sorry."

Liz pauses, choking on a sob that threatened to infiltrate her speech as he raises a hand to stop her.

"Please," he says, softly as he approaches her, placing both of his hands on her shoulders, comfortingly, "Beth, there is nothing to apologise for."

Liz bites back a disbelieving scoff, instead allowing herself to indulge in the warm sincerity of his eyes.

"I am just glad you're ok?" he finishes, looking at her inquisitive concern.

Liz only nods, not sure what exactly would escape if she opened her trembling mouth.

Hastings sighs, removing his hands from her shoulders and gesturing for her to take a seat. She does so, tucking some hair behind her ear anxiously as he pulls up a seat in front of her.

He waits for a moment, just studying her. Ted had watched this girl grow up and saw so much of himself in her, he would be a fool to not know when she was upset. He had been there when her father died, when her mother passed and he would be damned if he were not there now - even for the smaller things.

Ted leans his elbows on his knees, trying to catch her eye again. When he has it, he continues to speak, "Your surveillance has been noted and PC Glenn Hurrell has been cautioned. He will be brought in tomorrow for a little further questioning, giving him the chance to explain himself. But we know we have enough."

"But-" Liz clears her throat, picking at her fingers, "But I didn't get any physical evidence or CCTV that support Davis' claims in the workplace. That was the brief."

"Perhaps not," Hastings admits, yet his voice remains calm, "But you are now the perfect character witness. That will be more than enough to issue a permanent suspension, I am sure. And, I think you should know, PC Demi Davis had expressed her profound gratitude to you for not only believing her, but stepping out of your position and risking your safety to defend her integrity."

Liz only looks back at him, unsure what to say as her heart swells. It suddenly drops when she thinks of _that man_ , "Will I have to see him again?"

"No," Hastings declares, almost adamantly as his face darkens, "You will take tomorrow off. I don't want that man anywhere near you or you anywhere near that man. Besides, you deserve the break. You did good, kid."

She almost gasps at the affirmation. This was what Liz had dreaded most; confronting Ted. She assumed he would be mad. She had failed him in the field - _yet again_. She had disappointed him, surely, as she always did.

But, here he was, eye soft and voice softer, assuring her she had done enough. It was not that Ted had not praised her before. He would do so often when she grew up; like when she passed her driving test, or when she won the 200m hurdles at her year six sports day. He would never say that validating 'P' word, but Ted would support her nonetheless.

But, when it came to the Force, it felt different.

She knew how much it meant to him, and, even worse, she knew how much it meant to him because of her father. Ted always ranted about the exceptional quality of officer her Patrick O'Malley was, and he clearly had visions of her living up to the same standard. But, after training and the _incident_ a few months later, it became clear to them both that was not to be. He had ever admitted it, but Liz knew he must have had something to do with her being removed as an officer after what happened had happened. Hastings was the one who got her in, so he had to have been the one to get her out. He was so embarrassed of her, and why shouldn't he be?

The only reason she could muster as to why Ted had helped her with her wellbeing venture and O.K. network was because he felt guilty. Guilty he had helped raise such a sensitive and insecure young woman.

Liz had only gotten where she got out of nepotistic guilt.

Ok, maybe even Liz has to admit that seemed a bit of a reach. But this had always been such a sore topic for her, she often tried to ignore and bury it. So when something like this happens, giving him a reason to be so blatantly disappointed - everything comes flooding to the surface.

She is broken out of her thoughts by his hand engulfing both of hers, Ted muttering, "Your parents would be so proud of you."

Liz gulps don the tears that begin to swarm her eyes. She turns her hand to grip his back.

"Are you?" Liz asks before she has the chance to stop herself. Her heart stops. Her hands sweat. What the _hell_ was she thinking asking that-

"Of course, I am," Hastings almost pleads, Liz staring wide-eyed as she holds her baited breath, "I am so proud of you."

Liz exhales, shakily, feeling a few stray tears begin to fall.

He had said it. He said he was proud of her.

She could see it, in his eyes. Liz had thought of what that expression would look like if she ever saw it.

And now that she did, it was familiar. That gleam in his eye and small, affectionate smile. She had seen that look on his face often, just never able to work out what it meant.

It had been pride all along.

Then again, he could just be saying that because he feels guil-

_No._

Liz refuses to listen to her overworking mind, allowing herself to bask in the warm feeling spreading from her chest to the tips of her fingers gripping tightly to his hand.

"Here," Hastings says, giving her hand on more squeeze before letting go and grabbing his wallet from the desk.

Liz watches, wiping away another tear as he pulls out a £5 note and holds it out to her.

He smiles, kindly with a teasing glint in his eye, "Go buy yourself some Starbursts."

Liz scoffs a laugh, reaching out and taking it. That was something he used to do when she was a kid. Not really knowing how to deal with a crying child, Hastings often just bribed her out of it with money for sweets. It worked every time.

Hastings sends her a wink, pleased to see her face lighting up and eyes clear, "Just bring me back a Twix or something, eh?"

Liz chuckles, "Thank you, Ted."

The older man nods, still looking at her tenderly with a small, fond smile. He stands, heading back around his desk.

Liz stands herself, moving toward the door, but turning back before walking out, "Thank you. Really."

"It's just a fiver," he begins, waving her off dismissively.

"No, I mean," Liz smiles, hoping he can hear the earnestness in her voice. How can she truly express her gratitude? For raising her, for supporting her, for believing in her. She settles on, "for everything."

Hastings just smiles with a bashful nod, brushing it off as he always did to avoid emotional situations such as this. She could tell that meant a lot to him, too. Liz definitely did not say it enough. She decides, in that moment, that has to change.

Liz leaves his office with a smile, closing the door gently behind her. She tucks the fiver into her trouser pocket.

"Lizzie!" a voice calls out to her as she begins to head back to her room.

"Hey, Steve," she greets as the man comes to walk beside her.

"Kate said you were with Hastings," Steve says as they walk together, "How did it go?"

Liz almost laughs at the heistance in his voice as he asks that, clearly knowing how much she was dreading it. Though, he seems to relax at the smile on her face. This was not how he expected to find her this morning. Steve was even surprised to see her in the office, let alone striding through it with confidence and a smile lighting up her eyes.

"Good, yeah," she says, unable to keep the grin off her face as she thinks back on the meeting and what Ted had said.

"Oh, I'm glad," Steve holds the door open for her as they reach Liz's office.

He had been thinking of her all night. Even when Sam berated him for ruining their date, even having pre-emptively decided to bring her to that bar specifically under false pretenses, Steve was busy worrying about his friend. He was relieved, to see her seemingly so upbeat today, but guilt still nagged at him

"Listen, I really am sorry for interrupting your operation," he admits when the door closes behind them. Lizzie turns to him as he continues, "It was selfish of me."

"Steve-," Liz turns to him and steps closer. He would notice the forgiveness in her gaze if he had the guts to look her in the eye.

"-I was just worried about you and it was a brash decision to be there, I had no intention of approaching but then I saw his hands on you and I-"

"Steve-," Liz says again, softly, concerned (and slightly endeared) by the way his fists were beginning to clench as he thinks of Hurrell.

"-and I had to do something. I couldn't just watch you being taken advantage of like that, especially knowing I could have done something to stop you being there in the first place-"

Liz only huffs, knowing he was not listening to her.

"-and I know how much it meant to you and I hope you can forgive me-"

" _Steve!_ " Liz almost shouts, breaking him out of his impassioned rant.

The man finally catches her eye, then, relaxing immediately as he sees the genuinely amicable smile she is sending his way.

"I forgive you," Liz asserts, relieved to see his fists loosen and shoulders drop, "There is little to forgive. I am disappointed the operation fell through, but without you there…"

Steve nods in understanding, having been plagued himself with thoughts about what could have happened.

"You were looking out for me, and I thank you for that," Liz affirms, truly grateful and humbled by it.

She studies Steve for a moment as the tips of his ears redden. It is endearing.

"How is Sam?" Liz asks, remembering how awkward the other woman had been (and rightfully so).

Steve sighs, "A little mad at first. But eventually seemed pleased I would look out for you like that."

Liz ignores the painful pang that sends through her heart, prompting the unwanted thoughts she had tried so hard to suppress of him only having doesn't it to impress his girlfriend come briefly flooding back.

"Said I would make it up to her," Steve explains.

"Oh?" Liz raises an eyebrow in jest, "Any what about me?"

"What about you?"

She folds her arms, "Well, shouldn't you make it up to me for ruining my first undercover mission?"

Steve feels himself smirk at her mocking tone, "I thought you said you forgave me?"

"I forgive you, yeah. But that doesn't mean I don't expect compensation for the embarrassment."

"Was saving you from that bastard not enough?" Steve chuckles, disbelieving.

"I have thanked you for that. But I am still to complete a successful espionage operation because of you," Liz challenges, unable to resist grinning.

"Well," Steve casually puts his hands in his pockets as he humours her, part of him also feeling like he does owe her, "what would you like?"

Liz thinks for a moment, exaggeratedly placing a thoughtful finger on her chin and looking around.

"A hot chocolate with cream and extra marshmallows? Another cat?" Steve prompts, humoured.

Liz hums, sarcastically, "I'll think of something."

* * *

The next morning, Steve arrives early at his desk to see something has been left on it for him - some sort of book with a small paper note placed on top of it.

Hastings was interviewing Hurrell today. Liz had been given the day off and, having been seen by the man and introduced under an alias, Steve was advised not to be seen. Instead, Kate was taking over the questioning. _Good_ , he had thought when he was informed, _because I don't know what I would do if I ever see that man again._

Placing his jacket on the back of his chair and taking a seat. The book, old and worn from evidently numerous-reads, was a copy of ' _Jane Eyre_ ' with a note scrawled in a very familiar, neat handwriting.

Steve reads the note:

" _Reader, I forgave him at the moment and on the spot."_

_\- Lizzie x_

He puts the book in his bag to read when he gets home later. Steve feels a smile grow on his face.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! first chapter in a while. as mentioned, I have been moving back to university this week and have struggled to find time between settling in, seeing friends and doing coursework. updates will likely be more spread out now, hopefully one or two a week as I love writing it! I hope you all understand and can be patient with me!
> 
> as always, I hope you enjoy and please do let me know your thoughts as we head into my favourite season!

"Hey," Kate greets as Liz walks into the viewing room.

Liz smiles in return, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. Looking over at the screens set up on the end of it, Liz glances over the image of Hastings, Dot and Steve sat on one side of the interview room, with another man and his solicitor sat on the other.

She had been briefly informed on the case by Steve who had caught her in her office earlier. He explained their latest inquiry centred on 'Operation Damson' where the suspect, a man named Ronan Murphy accused of preparing gangland execution, was shot by Sergeant Danny Waldron of South Ferry Station. Steve had explained himself and Ted were called to the scene because of suspicious bullet marks, indicating he was perhaps killed maliciously and not as a result of self-defence. The other three officers who were with Waldron at the time also confirmed the story of the shooting being defensive and necessary, but AC-12 has its doubts. On her lunch break, having already eaten at her desk, Liz thought she would drop in as Steve had invited her to watch from the viewing room, claiming he wanted her opinion.

"Victor Charlie Four One notified me that the suspect was travelling towards us and authorised us to carry out a real-time intercept," Liz hears the man, Sergeant Danny Waldron, state matter-of-factly.

"Real-time intercept," Hastings repeats, doubtfully, "Things get a wee bit fuzzy for me here, Sergeant. Maybe you could be a ray of sunshine and burn off the fog, hm?"

Liz watches as Waldron only stares back at the Superintendent, an offensive yet challenging gleam in his eye.

"I'm waiting," Hastings cockily prompts, a brow raised inquisitively.

Waldron remains silent, a stark contrast to the almost-arrogant assurance he had so far been responding with.

Dot speaks up, leaning forward, "What the super's asking you is how come, as per the statement given by Victor Charlie Four One, you were ordered to only support-"

"Not ordered," Waldron exclaims, swallowing hard once he realises how loud that had slipped out, "Advised."

"But you went ahead and carried out the hard stop, anyway," Dot confronts.

"The suspect was travelling at high speeds to an unknown destination with the intent of committing a gangland execution," Waldron asserts.

"Or so the intelligence says."

"The intelligence did say," Walrodn argues with a shrug, "and if that's wrong, sir… take it up with them."

Dot glares at the man as Waldron raises a cocky brow.

His solicitor leans forward now, "Can we please stick to a line of questioning that relates to Victor Charlie Five One's actions?"

Hastings nods, waving a welcoming hand to Waldron, "On you go, Sergeant."

Waldron lets out a breath, then reaches for the documents laid out on the table in front of them, "It would help if I refer to the map in our folders. Document four."

The group pull out their copies, Liz opening her own folder that Kate passes to her.

"Travelling at high speed along Prince's Road, the suspect approached a line of parked cars with open road ahead," Waldron explains, "I was concerned that if we didn't carry out the hard stop immediately, the suspect would get away."

"And that was your decision, was it?" Dot questions.

"No, sir," Waldron says, turning to him pretentiously, "It was a decision of the strategic firearms commander, who designated the operational objective of preventing the suspect carrying out an act of lethal force. Added to which, as police officers, it's a non-negotiable duty to protect the public."

Liz chuckles to herself as she sees Kate roll her eyes at the Sergeant's excessive use of terminology. Looking back to the screen, she can tell Steve is straining to resist doing the same, instead leaning back in his chair and folding his arms.

"Can I answer the question now?" Waldron quirks.

Hastings sighs, quietly irritated, "Please do."

Waldron nods, once again beginning a performative account of his version of events, "Fearing the suspect would get away and pose a danger to the public, I took the decision to close off his route of escape by executing a hard-stop manoeuvre on Prince's Road that trapped the suspect's vehicle between ours and the parked cars. The suspect then made his escape on foot via an alleyway and I gave chase."

Liz looks to her map, where this route is clearly indicated.

Waldron continues, "This foot chase led to a confrontation in Prince's Court."

"Well," Hastings says, "we need you to tell us all about this confrontation."

"Once in Prince's Court, the suspect almost immediately realised he was cornered, Waldron states, looking Hastings unwaveringly in the eye, "The suspect turned his weapon on us and fired. We returned fire, shots struck the suspect in the head and proved instantly fatal."

"We have received written statements from yourself and the other AFOs on your team," Steve explains, "Said statements agree you all entered Prince's Court together."

"Correct."

"See, thing is," Dot continues from Steve's point, "we have a statement of an eyewitness on Prince's Road. She says that you entered that rough ground at least thirty seconds before the rest of your team."

"I was first out of our vehicle," Waldron insists, "That would have misled the eyewitness."

"Are you saying she's mistaken?" Hastings asks.

"I'm saying that my written statement and the written statements of my team are accurate."

"Yes, they are," Hastings nods, "And entirely consistent in _every_ detail."

Waldron flinches. The minute wince of his undereye would have gone unnoticed to many, but not to Liz. It was a very telling reaction.

"You and your team acted as one," Hastings says, also having noticed this.

"Correct."

"That's not always the case for you and your teams though, is it?" Dot inquires, hinting to their next point.

Steve continues following Waldron's blank silence, "In your four years at South Ferry there have been a fair few transfer requests from officers who didn't want to stay in your team."

"Some guys can't cut it," Waldron defends, "I want them off my squad. To save face, they put in for a transfer request."

Liz sighs, knowing that not to be true. She had appointments with at least three officers who had complained about their experiences with Waldron at South Ferry.

"I've got high standards," Waldron shrugs, impassively, "That's their problem."

Liz watches as Steve only stares at him, distrustingly.

"So, all four of you entered Prince's Court together," Hastings says, leaning his elbows on the desk as he folds his arms.

"Yes, sir," Waldron smirks, "We were moving fast on foot but I carried out a rapid risk assessment, noting that there were no members of the public in immediate jeopardy. I called 'armed police'. The suspect turned his weapon on us and opened fire. I returned fire. The suspect fell to the ground. Immediate examination of the suspect by Victor Charlie Five Four revealed serious wounds to the head. The suspect had absent respiration and his pulse was also absent. I secured his firearm. A few moments later, Victor Charlie Four One arrived on the scene with her team and assumed operational command."

Liz lets out a relieved breath when he finally finishes talking, Kate sighing irritatedly beside her. That sourly stoic tone was nothing but grating, quite frankly.

"You discharged your pistols, not your G36s," Steve notes.

"We confronted the suspect in a confined space bounded by hard surfaces," Waldron responds, as if it were the most obvious explanation, "Given the G36 has a muzzle velocity of over 900 metres per second, I identified a significant risk our rounds might pass through the suspect and ricochet back at us, causing injury."

"We don't have an eyewitness to the shooting," Dot states, "but we do have three ear-witnesses."

"Three _independent_ ear-witnesses," Hastings stresses.

"Each ear-witness claims to have heard a group of gunshots followed closely by what sounded like a second group of gunshots, followed closely by a single gunshot," Steve informs.

"As per my written statement," Waldron huffs, "it's a matter of fact that there was one shot fired by the suspect, immediately followed by a group of shots, fired simultaneously by myself, Victor Charlie Five Two and Victor Charlie Five Three."

"These independent ear-witnesses would seem to contradict said 'fact'," Hastings challenges.

"It is an accepted and well-recognised acoustic phenomenon that an ear-witness can be deceived by up to six different sounds associated with a single gunshot," Waldron replies, having an answer for everything. It reminds Liz of Denton.

Steve resists a sigh, instead wishing to continue, "Document six in your folders. Forensic report regarding Operation Damson."

Liz looks down at her own folder as Steve continues to read, "Gunshot residue from the discharge of a Glock 17 pistol was detected on the hands and clothing of the following: Victor Charlie Five One, Victor Charlie Five Two and Victor Charlie Five Three."

"They all discharged their weapons. No one's disputing that," Waldron's solicitor argues.

Steve continues, unbothered, "A Colt 1911 A1 pistol was found in the suspect's right hand. Gunshot residue from a discharge of this firearm was detected on the suspect. Gunshot residue from the Colt was also detected on Victor Charlie Five One."

Liz leans forward to study the vacant glare Waldron was sending Steve's way after that evidence.

"Are you able to explain this finding?" Hastings asks.

"I secured the suspect's firearm, causing secondary transfer of residue after the firearm had been discharged," Waldron covers, "This explains the high concentration of residue."

"Does it?" Dot smirks, huffing in disbelief.

"A concentration distribution more characteristic of a gunman than a bystander," Steve explains.

"Caused when I secured the firearm," Waldron insists.

Hastings shakes his head, muttering, "You expect us to believe that?"

Steve continues to push, referring once again to the forensics report, "A distance of approximately five metres from the suspect was a small concentration of gunshot residue found on the ground. Said residue matched the suspect's firearm. How would you account for this?"

"The suspect was in motion as he turned his firearm towards my team. He covers a short distance between raising the gun and firing it."

"There's gunshot residue on the ground where the body was found," Steve pushes, "That's where he fired the gun. Why is there gunshot residue five metres away, as well?"

"My colleague has answered the question-"

"Did the gun ever lie in a potion on the ground five metres form the suspect?" Steve questions, voice raised and overpowering the solicitor.

"No, it did not," Waldron asserts, though the slightest hint of a smirk appears on his face, as though he were proud of his facade.

Steve huffs, turning back to the folder to hide his frustration, "Document eleven. Three bullets were recovered from the head wound and were identified as nine by nineteen millimetre parabellum rounds fired by a Glock 17 pistol issue to authorised firearms officer Victor Charlie Five One."

"Three shots," Dot emphasises, "You made sure. Didn't you, Sergeant?"

"Victor Charlie Five One regrets the loss of life," Waldron's solicitor says before he has the chance to respond himself, "But I don't need to remind everyone that he was an authorised firearms officer acting on the lawful orders of a strategic firearms commander."

"You regret killing him?" Steve asks Waldron.

"As I said-" his solicitor goes to repeat her assertion before Steve interrupts her again.

"I am asking Victor Charlie Five One."

"Victor Charlie Five One has the right to be interviewed by an officer at least one rank superior," the woman quips.

Liz can't resist an amused smile at the way Steve's face darkens in frustration. He always hated it when they said that.

Hastings jumps in then, "Do you regret killing him, Victor Charlie Five One?"

"I regret the loss of life," Waldron professionally responds.

"Three shots," Hastings raises his voice to accentuate the point.

"Standard practice is to aim at the maximum body mass," Steve explains, "The chest."

"Why head shots?" hastings inquires, tone stern.

"I was ten metres away in good visibility," the Segreant explains, "The shots were highly achievable."

"Standard practice is double tap the trigger, discharging shots in pairs," Steve continues to stress.

"Not two shots," Hastings scolds, "Not four."

"He collapsed after the third shot, so I ceased fire," Waldron's voice strains under the pressure, yet remains assured.

"You shot him down like a dog," Hastings castigates.

"Sir, you language is inflammatory," Waldron's solicitor complains.

Liz chuckles at Hastings' unbothered, sarcastic laugh at that.

"We don't shoot to wound," Waldron continues, "We shoot to neutralise the lethal threat."

"You were the only AFO to strike the target," Steve looks at the man, challengingly.

"Yes, that's what hap-"

"You listen to me, son," Hastings scorns, silencing the Sergeant, "We weren't born yesterday. You shot that fella in cold blood while your wee mates stood by and watched."

"I shot first and the others fired a fraction later, by which time the suspect had collapsed and their shots missed."

"You saw all that in a fraction of a second?" Dot raises a disbelieving brow.

Waldron leans forward, darkly glaring at him, "I've never been to this building before. You saw me walk into this interview room and sit down in a matter of seconds."

Liz frowns, unsure where he is going with this.

"Over my left shoulder," Waldron allows his gaze to flicker between the three men opposite him as he begins, "are three rows of open plan desks in front of a glass petition dividing the open plan area from a private office, range 20 metres. Seated at the desks are seven perosnnel composing four males and three females."

LIz can see Steve looking beyond Waldron to affirm his claims. She turns to do the same, shoulder sinking as she realises he is correct.

Waldron goes on, "Over my right shoulder is a longitudinal partition at chets height, beyond which is gate-controlled access, range 20 metres. Entrances and exits at this level are via key-controlled lifts adjacent to the waiting area at my four-o-clock position, range 35 metres."

Hastings immediately speaks up, refusing to give the man the satisfaction of them seeming impressed or flustered by the display, "So why the second shot? Why the third?"

"The first shot was fatal," Steve says, keeping up the barrage.

"Why did you keep firing?" Hastings questions, "Are you losing it out there, fella?"

"I cite under Common Law, my lawful right to use lethal force for preservation of life or in self-defence where this threat is immediate," Waldron bites.

"Yes, and in response I cite Section 117 of the Police and Criminal Evidence Act: the use of _reasonable_ force," Hatsings bites back, "And for the tape, the emphasis is mine and not contained in the act."

Kate and Liz share an amused glance at the older man's witty quip, before turning back to the screens where Waldron once again shrugs, indifferent.

"That's an easy argument from behind a desk, sir-"

"Behind this desk, Sergeant, we uphold standards!" Hastings shouts, "Standards you're expected to meet as a serving police officer!"

Steve swipes on the tablet, an image of the deceased suspect appearing on the screen. Liz swallows down some bile at the sight; bloody bullet holes having torn through the eye socket.

"Do you recognise the man in this image?" Hastings asks, voice now calm once again.

"I object in the strongest possible terms," Waldron's solicitor says, recovering after her own shock at the image, "Victor Charlie Five One has been involved in an extremely tragic and distressing incident, and this line of inquiry is offensive and insensitive."

"Your man doesn't strike me as the sensitive type," Dot quirks. Liz has to bite back a laugh.

"Are you?" Steve asks, Liz noticing him also struggling to refrain from smiling.

"Am I what?" Waldron asks, not having responded to Dot's accusation.

"Sensitive," Steve states.

Liz watches Waldron's face darken again.

"In your personnel file, there's no next of kin," Steve states, "Wife, fiancee?"

Waldron lets out an offended huff, looking anywhere but the AC-12 officers. The assured confidence has disappeared completely from his expression and posture, now sitting deflated and defeated in his seat. Liz feels her heart pang for the man, feeling somewhat guilty for having been amused by the accusation.

"This line of questioning bears no relevance to the investigation," his solicitor defends.

"We don't know that yet," Steve argues.

"I'm single," Waldron finally responds, looking sadly yet challengingly to Steve, "The suspect was an armed criminal with a history of violence posing an immediate and credible threat to the public. In respect of Operation Damson, on May 13th the strategic firearms commander authorised the use of firearms. Under Section Three of the Criminal Law Act, 1967, I am also entitled to use such force as is reasonable in the circumstance to prevent crime. And under Section 117 of the Police and Criminal Evidence Act, 1984, I am entitled to use reasonable force in the exercise of police powers."

Liz winces as the man's volume gradually raises higher and higher as he recites the terms, seeing his confidence grow in the increased puffing of his chest.

"Under Common Law, I have the lawful right to use reasonable force for preservation of life or in self-defence where this threat is immediate," Waldron hits a finger pointedly onto the table as his gaze catches the three men, "At no time has anyone in this room out forward credible evidence that I acted unlawfully! And therefore, I formally request that my withdrawal from operational deployment be lifted and my firearms permit be reinstated so I can get back to doing what I do best!"

"This investigation is far from over, son," Hastings warns, "As far as I'm concerned, we've only just scratched the surface!"

Waldron's lower lip trembles as he glares incredulously at the Superintendent.

Hastings stands, walking from the room, "Request denied. Desk duty only. Interview terminated."

The door slams behind him, Liz looking out the window of the viewing room to watch him stride to his own office. She sighs, leaning back in her seat as she thinks over all the new developments and information.

"Christ," Kate says, unsure what to actually say as she also processes the insights.

"Are you going undercover at South Ferry?" Liz asks, assuming that was why Kate had not been present in the interview room.

"Most likely. Though nothing has been put in motion, yet," Kate nods, then looks over to her friend with a teasing smirk, "Sure you don't want to take this one?"

Liz guffaws, looking offendedly at the woman, knowing she was referring to her mission with Hurrell seven months ago, "You're never going to drop that, are you?"

Hurrell had since been permanently suspended from the force, with many other women coming forward with their own accusations against him. There was not enough for a charge, but Liz was proud to have secured a suspension at least. By putting herself in the line of fire, she had encouraged others to open up about their own experiences after years of feeling bullied into silence.

Kate just shrugs, still smiling.

"Besides," Liz continues, "I know him. Sort of."

"Yeah, Steve mentioned," Kate vaguely remembers the man having said something about it, "You worked with him or something?"

Liz hums, "Was at my branch, back when I was briefly an actual officer after training."

Kate nods, remembering that was what Steve had said to her, "What was he like?"

" _That_ ," Liz chuckles, humourlessly, gesturing to the screens where he remained seated, speaking with his solicitor as Steve and Dot gathered their documents, "Reserved, kept to himself mostly. Very eager, but not out of the ordinary for a young, male recruit, I suppose."

Liz had only known the man for less than two months a few years ago. It was hardly as though he were a client who she had studied and written profiles on. He had always been that way; arrogant. But she had always written it off as eagerness when they worked together as officers. It was not until she spoke with a few clients from his new branch that she began to imagine a different side to the man. A side she could not work out from such a distance. All she knew was that him shooting down a suspect and intimidating his team into covering for him did not feel unlikely to her. Though, it did not sit right that he would do it without reason. If she had to guess, there was more to his knowledge and maybe past with the suspect than he wanted to reveal. Hopefully, if they allowed her to, she could be useful to the team in that sense.

Liz watches the screen as the group stand from their chairs and leave the interview room. Wanting to catch up with Steve and discuss that line of inquiry and any part she could play, she gets up from her chair to meet with him as he escorts Waldron out of the building.

"I'll see you in a bit," Liz says to the other woman as she heads out of the room. Kate waves at her, needing to stay hidden in the room from Waldron if she were to be stationed at his branch, undercover.

Leaving the viewing room, Liz heads over to the office exit where Steve is standing with Waldron and his solicitor. Steve catches her eye, nodding in greeting as she approaches, though Liz stays a little further away from the group as to not entirely intrude.

Steve's attention is immediately returned to Waldron, who has not yet noticed her arrival, stepping closer and squaring up to him.

"What was all that about my personal life?" Danny scowls, lowly, "What was that?"

"Danny, don't do this," his solicitor warns, only to be ignored.

Steve refuses to stand back, looking up determinedly at the furied man, "Nothing personal."

"No?" Waldron exclaims, disbelieving and offended.

"Interview's finished, Danny," the solicitor drawls as the lift begins to open.

"I'm not," Waldron huffs, defiantly.

"Good," Steve growls, inching closer, menacingly, "Neither are we."

Liz almost rolls her eyes at his typical dramatic retaliation, taking a step forward as the two men glare at each other.

"Danny," Liz calls, hoping her calm tone would distract the two men and diffuse their tension.

Waldron's eyes finally flit to hers, the animosity in his eyes retracting. Liz would have felt relieved if his stare was not so grievously, almost somehow threateningly blank.

Liz holds out her hand to him, ignoring the look, "I'm Liz, Liz Thornton? I don't know if you remember, but we used to work together. At Crowley Avenue Station?"

Her hand hangs limp in the air as he just looks at her, eyes blank and _dark_. She had hoped it was simply a look of nonrecognition, that he was unsure who she was. But, after an almost missable miniscule nod of the head in realisation, the stare remained fixed on her. The sinking feeling in her stomach is not only embarrassment, but dread.

Perhaps, Liz wonders as she timidly lowers her ignored hand, he thinks she was involved in the interrogation of his personal life. Perhaps, he thinks she, having known him before, gave AC-12 the information they used against him. Perhaps, he is angry with her.

Liz represses a chill.

She finds herself taking a small step backward, slightly cowering under his glare. Liz notices Steve, who had been worriedly glancing between the two of them, move slightly in front and between her and the man. As he does, Danny's bothersome blank gaze flicks sharply between Steve and the woman behind him. With one last snarl, Waldron turns on his heel and strides to the lift, joining his solicitor.

Steve remains standing in front of Liz as the doors to the lift close, Waldron continuing to send the pair a sinister snarl until the doors close and he is out of sight.

Liz lets out a relieved breath, having been unable to exhale under the pressure of Waldron's glare.

Steve turns to her with a concernedly questioning look. She nods, assuring him she is alright.

"You did well," Liz says to him as they begin to head for her office.

Steve shakes his head, "You were right. He's difficult."

Liz hums, thinking to when she had tried to describe Daniel Waldron to her friend the day before. 'Difficult' was the only word that had come to mind. Steve had frowned, underwhelmed at that analysis, but now it seemed fitting.

"What time do you finish tonight?" Steve asks her.

"Late, probably. I have a meeting with Central tomorrow I need to prepare for," she explains.

"I finish at nine if you want a lift," he offers, knowing that, even after a year, Liz had still been too humble to ask for a new company car after the Denton crash.

Liz smiles, gratefully, "Thank you, Steve. I'll try and get it all finished by then."

"Great, see you later."

* * *

"So when are you bringing in the rest of the squad for questioning?" Liz asks as they walk to Steve's car later that night.

"Hastings is working on it now," Steve informs, holding the office door open for her as they leave the building.

"Thanks," she says as she passes, wrapping her coat around her tighter as they step into the cold, night air, "And Danny? Will he be back soon?"

Steve huffs, "Well, we need more to go on before we can lay down a charge. Having a meeting tomorrow about Kate going undercover."

"Yeah, she mentioned the possibility," Liz nods.

Kate had seemed up for the idea, things now beginning to settle with her husband and regular visits with her son, Josh. The woman had seemed much more content lately. Not quite happy, but things were so much better than they had been this time last year. She had an apartment, her family back and finally felt re-convinced in her ability as a UCO. Seeing her friend so stable after everything made Liz happy too.

"Hastings has seemed a little reluctant to send out UCOs after…" Steve trails off.

Liz rolls her eyes, knowing he is referring to what happened all those months ago with Hurrell.

She smirks, "Steve, I thought we agreed to move on from it. Besides, Ted is just being over-protective. I refuse to let that man prioritise my mistake over this case."

Steve rolls his eyes now, "Lizzie, it wasn't your mistake-"

"Please, I really don't want to talk about it again," Liz says, holding out a hand to stop him, "We said we would move on and that's what we should do. It was so long ago and there really is no need for it to keep coming up."

Steve sighs, both in frustration and relief.

"I don't ever have to think about that man again, so I won't," Liz asserts, shuddering from the cold and the memory of Hurrell's advances.

Steve looks at her as they walk into the car park, quietly affirming, "I'm just glad you're ok."

Things had been going well for Lizzie too over the last year. Her O.K. network was ever-expanding, with more wellbeing officers being recruited and assigned to branches each month. After the Hurrell incident, Steve had feared she would have felt defeated and put herself down lower than she usually had the habit of doing. Instead, like with Kate, Liz had seemed much more assured. There was a new air of confidence about her - and Steve's chest aches proudly seeing it. He is sure the turning point was Hastings' long overdue confession of him being proud of her that did it. Steve almost found himself choking up when she told him, knowing how much that must have meant to her. It was as if, now Hastings was finally, openly proud of her, she could be too.

"Me too," Liz smiles up at him, Steve returning it fondly.

"How is the network-"

"Steve!" someone cuts him off by yelling his name, echoing around the car park.

The pair look over to where his car sits, a woman standing next to it and waving over at him.

Liz sighs, though under her breath so the man beside her does not hear it.

Sam Railston. Steve's girlfriend.

She watches as a smile lights up Steve's face, him moving quickly over to the other woman. Liz slowly makes her way over too, though stops a fair distance away from the couple.

Steve envelopes her in an embrace, the couple then melting into a kiss. Liz looks away, quietly clearing her throat, awkwardly. He had not mentioned his girlfriend would also be there this evening. It disappoints her, having been grateful to spend time with him after such a busy few weeks at work. Not that there was dislike between the two women. They just had not seen much of each other after the Hurrell incident and Steve using a date with Sam as a guise to protect her. Liz supposes the woman had a right to feel weird, but after so many months, she was surprised Sam still seemed reluctant to want to get to know her. Sam would often find excuses to leave when Liz approached them or, as in this case, she would almost put on a performative display of affection with Steve. Liz did not understand why the woman felt compelled to do that, it was not like it was making her jealous or anything. Only extremely uncomfortable.

With his arms still wrapped around his girlfriend's waist, Steve gives her another sweet kiss, "Hey."

"Hey," Sam sultrily whispers back.

Steve suddenly opens his car door, remembering, "I have these for you."

He pulls out a bouquet of flowers, smirking at the smile Sam gives him when she sees them, "Happy anniversary."

Sam responds by kissing him back, deeply.

Steve leans back after a moment, smiling at his girlfriend.

He turns to look behind him, now almost embarrassingly aware that Lizzie was watching the entire thing.

Or so he thought.

Lizzie was no longer there. She was gone.

* * *

Liz is happy for Steve.

She is. Of course she is. Why wouldn't she be?

Sam is… nice. Steve is happy. And he deserves that.

This was good for Steve. He has clearly changed his ways when it comes to women. Hopefully, he had listened to the many times Liz called him out for being, well, _a womaniser_.

That nausea in her stomach back there as she watched the couple was just awkwardness. It is always awkward watching someone kiss in public. Especially when it is your friend. And Steve is one of her closest friends. Of course she feels uncomfortable.

Besides, even if a small part of her was jealous, it would only be that general envy of companionship again. She had felt it before, with Steve and Georgia, and Steve and the nurse, and Steve and Denton- Of course, most of those had been romantic relationships, to an extent. But that wasn't the point. He was her friend. it was only normal for her to resent him spending time with anyone else. Especially when she had so few other friends.

Perhaps she did not have to walk away like that, unannounced. But they clearly wanted time alone, so she is doing them a favour by walking herself home. Liz is sure Steve will understand.

Liz feels her phone vibrating in her coat pocket as she walks. Pulling it out, she sees the caller ID is Steve.

He will understand.

Still, she ignores the call.

Putting her phone back in her pocket, she looks around, realising she has walked further than she realised. Must have been lost in thought.

Liz was no longer walking down the busy high streets and main roads, but was now making her way down the narrow alley short-cut which led to her road. She had walked this route so many times before, on her way to and from work. It was more than familiar to her.

So, why did she feel so uneasy?

Goosebumps prick her arms and neck. It was a cold night, but Liz's thick coat and hurried pace was enough to keep her warm - so why did she have goosebumps?

Could it be the way the street lamp was flickering, darkening the path ahead?

Or the chilling wind howling in her ear?

Was she still feeling uneasy about Steve and Sam's intimate display?

...Or was it the resounding, heavy footsteps that had relentlessly followed her for the last twenty minutes?

Taking a breath and shaking her head, convincing herself it is just coincidence, Liz turns her head slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see a figure a few feet behind. Any features are indistinguishable in this shoddy lighting. She guesses it is a man, from the heaviness and pace. But who was it? Were they following her?

Liz, despite trying her best to persuade herself she was being irrational, quickens her pace a little, focusing intently on the path ahead of her.

 _You're being irrational_ , Liz scolds herself, _He will turn the other way as soon as we reach the end of the alley and that will be the end of it. He isn't following you-_

He doesn't turn. The footsteps continue behind her.

She quickens her pace again, her feet fumbling slightly. Liz attempts to keep a regular fast pace, not wanting to alert this man - if he _were_ following her - she had caught on, or on the other hand - if he were _not_ following her - not wanting to embarrass herself by running.

Though, despite her mind's resistance, every instinct in her body is telling her to.

Speeding down her road, Liz risks another glance to the side. It is still too dark to distinguish who this man is. But it becomes more plausible to her that he _is_ following her as she becomes hyper-aware of the footsteps, also quickening their pace to match hers.

Eyes snapping forward, watering from the cold and fear, Liz almost runs to her apartment building. Practically falling through the front door, Liz slams it shut behind her, holding it closed for a moment. Looking through the glass, she sees no one.

The street is empty. There is no one there. The man is gone.

Breathing heavily, Liz backs away from the door, turning to her own flat. Fumbling in her pocket for keys, Liz glances over her shoulder, worriedly. Still, there is no one there. But that does not stop her heart from battering against her ribs. Or her hands stop shaking. Or a tear falling down her cheek.

Collapsing against her door once she is through it, and sinking to the ground, Liz lets out a short sob.

Saoirse approaches, stroking her fur coat against Liz's leg. She allows herself to revel in the feeling, taking it as an attempt of comfort.

She is home, she is safe.

Liz does not know who the man was or what his intentions were.

But Liz does know; she was being followed.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for such a short chapter compared to the recent ones! I needed to end this at an appropriate place as have WAY more lined up for the next chapters! also found the time to write this so jumped at the opportunity and rushed to get it out!
> 
> thank you to everyone who wished me well with university and those of you who have commented your supports/thoughts on this fic. it really does mean so much!! enjoy!

"You called for me?"

"Ah, Beth," Hastings smiles from his desk as she walks into his office, moving to stand beside the three AC-12 officers, "We have a wee debate going on here, thought we could use your opinion."

"What's going on?" Liz asks, her eyes flitting to the officers beside her then back to Ted, curiously.

"We were just discussing the Danny Waldron shooting," Hastings explains, "and the possibility of an undercover assignment."

Liz looks over to Kate who stands between Steve and Dot, who sends her a determined glance.

"Look," Dot says before Liz can respond, "this feels like a long shot."

Steve jumps in, disputing, "Kate was kept out of the interview on purpose to give us this option. We should use it."

Hastings seems to contemplate this, "Remind me, Kate, are you firearms trained?"

"Yes, sir, I am," Kate agrees. Liz remembers the woman excelling in this particular area during training. It seemed she had a natural gift for it. Liz… not so much.

"The statements given by Waldron's team are all highly consistent," Dot argues, "That's not suspicious in itself. What else are they gonna do? Give them 48 hours to get their stories straight?"

Steve huffs, "The question is whether Waldron's story adds up. Whether his squad's really as loyal as they appear. The only way to get an inside look is with Kate on the case."

Dot shakes his head, disagreeing, "Putting Kate into a AFO role is a whole level of jeopardy above a normal undercover assess-"

"I can handle it," Kate states to Hastings, arms folded and eyes fixed.

Hastings lets out a breath as the three AC-12 officers watch him, anticipating his answer. The older man's eyes turn to Liz, him raising an inquisitive brow.

Liz, who had been thinking all their arguments over, clears her throat slightly, "I understand the risks but Kate is the most capable officer we have to complete this mission. If sending Kate in gets this case closed, then surely it is our duty to see it through."

Hastings nods, agreeing, "Right, I'll put in the word. Kate, you'll have a briefing tomorrow morning at o-nine-hundred."

"Thank you, sir," Kate says, Liz noting the pleased smirk appearing on her face.

"Dismissed," Hastings waves them off, turning to his phone to make the necessary phone calls.

Liz follows the officers out of the room, Kate thanking her with a smile before walking back to her desk. Steve also sends her a grateful glance before heading over to his own.

About to turn back for her own office, Liz hears a frustrated sigh beside her. Dot still stands outside Hastings' office, hands in his pockets and looking to his feet, defeatedly.

"Everything alright?" Liz asks, the man looking up at her a little startled.

"Yeah, yeah," he dismisses, then frowns, "Just concerned."

Liz starts heading for her office, hoping he will follow as his desk is not so far from it. Dot moves to walk beside her.

"What's concerning you?" Liz inquires, softly as she would with her clients.

"We are sending her into a _firearms_ squad without any concern of the risk of her being found out," Dot explains, worriedly, "If Waldron's willing to shoot down a suspect without any thought, who knows what he could be capable of."

Liz hums, thoughtfully, "You're right. I have the same concern. But this is Kate we are talking about."

"I know," he admits, Liz can see the conflict on his face, "Not like she hasn't been caught out before, though?"

Liz stays quiet. She hates to admit it, but there is some truth in his concern.

"Christ," Dot exclaims under his breath, no longer walking,

Liz stops too, looking up at his irritated expression curiously before following his eyes.

Gill Biggeloe.

She groans, Dot letting out an amused but agreeing chuckle beside her. AC-12's legal counsel had been nothing but a bitch to this office for five years now. Liz in particular. She has been sucking up to Ted for years, trying to dig her talons into him and manipulate his every move. Liz always assumed that was why the woman immediately disliked her; because Ted would listen to _her_ and favour _her_ perspective every time. Gill was reluctant to allow her to have an office in the department all those years ago when Liz started working on her network. Something about it being nepotistic, making the department look bad. In fact, it was Gill who first derogatorily claimed Liz was nothing but a 'glorified HR assistant', a notion that had been a sensitive accusation ever since. Ted had argued it was nothing of the sort and defied Gill to give her an office and resources anyway. Liz loved him a little more for that.

Liz and Dot watch as she passes, ignoring them as she does despite Liz's best attempt at a polite smile. Liz rolls her eyes as the woman strides into Hastings' office, without even knocking, as if she owns the place.

"Interrupted a meeting with myself and Arnott yesterday," Dot explains, gesturing with his head to the woman who disappears into the SUperintendent's office, "Some shit about the Police Federation pushing back against Waldron's suspension."

Liz groans, again, folding her arms, "You're kidding."

Dot shakes his head, disappointedly, "Said his lawyer wrote an email about three pages long-"

"Which she probably helped write," Liz rolls her eyes.

Dot huffs, humoured, "No doubt. Asking for him to be operational again with his firearms permit reinstated. Need more substantial evidence, apparently."

"What are you going to do?"

"Well, I suppose now we have Kate as a UCO, see if she can identify one of the team as a weak link or find irregularities in their statements," Dot explains with a shrug, "and then we push them harder."

Liz sighs, "So, what, Biggeloe is running your investigations now?"

"Arnott said the same thing," Dot says with a smirk. Liz smiles too at that. Of course he did. That man was rubbing off on her.

* * *

Someone was following her again. She knows it.

It's those footsteps again, the same heavy pace as the other night.

The last few nights, Liz had taken the long way home via the main roads. It added about twenty minutes to her journey, but she was able to avoid those dangerously discreet alleyway shortcuts. She had thought that would keep her safe - and it had worked. Until now.

Turning onto her road, she quickens her pace as she had done before. The footsteps quicken behind her as they also had done before.

Liz bites her lip, willing herself to move faster without breaking into an obvious run.

Hastily walking up the short path to her apartment building entrance, Liz slams the door behind her and runs to her own flat. She doesn't look back this time, too fixated on getting through her own door and away from him - whoever it was. Once safely inside, she twists the internal lock and secures it shut, pushing against it for a moment just to make sure.

Sighing when she is satisfied it is locked, Liz moves away to her sofa, collapsing on it.

Her mind runs with questions and possible answers, yet drawing on no conclusions.

How long has she been followed? Why was she being followed? _Who_ was following her?

Just then, her phone vibrates beside her. She jumps. Reaching for it and looking at the caller, she feels her chest swell in relief at the sight of Steve's name.

"Hello?" she asks as she picks it up.

"Lizzie, I was just- wait, everything ok?" his voice asks, concerned. Liz silently curses herself. She must have forgotten to conceal the scared shakiness of her voice.

She clears her throat, sitting up straight, then deflecting "Uh, yeah. You?"

He pauses for a moment, probably not believing her, "I was just doing some surveillance on Waldron. He lives just around the corner from you, about two minutes away. I have some treats for Saoirse I could drop off if you're not busy?"

Liz feels herself smile at his kindness, despite her heart still beating wildly, "Oh, yeah, that would be great. I only just got back so it's not a problem."

"Great, I'll be there in five," Steve says.

"Ok, I'll have a coffee waiting," she smiles, hanging up the call.

Liz throws her phone down onto the sofa and removes her jacket, heading to the kitchen to make the hot drink. As she does, her mind returns to her ordeal.

Who would want to follow her? What reason would anyone have? To scare her, to intimidate her? The only person to have ever come to her home with that intent was Denton, and she was currently behind bars awaiting her official trial. And it wasn't like that woman had any allies to send after Liz. So who else would want to scare her? Who else could she think of who might be angry with-?

_Oh no. Surely, it can't be-_

There's a knock on her door. Liz jumps again, almost spilling the boiling water from her kettle over herself. She sets it down, slowly moving over to the door. Liz hesitantly steps towards it, leaning quietly against it to look through the viewing hole.

Her tense shoulders sag as she sees Steve standing outside, hands in pockets as he waits for her to respond. Taking a brief moment to steady herself and fix on her bravado, Liz opens it.

"Hey, come in."

"Thanks, Lizzie," he says as he steps past her with a smile, "Where should I put these?"

Liz smiles as he pulls out a packet of cat treats from his pocket, holding them up.

"Just put them down anywhere, I'm sure Saoirse will find them," Liz grins, "Thank you."

"No problem," Steve says looking around for the cat.

Just then, when the packet rustles as he puts them onto the counter, the fluffy creature appears - trotting happily into the room. She pads over to the pair, looking up at the packet and brushing her coat gratefully against Steve's ankle.

The pair smile at the cat's eager eyes watching Steve pick up the packet and open it, pulling out a treat for her. Saoirse sits up, waiting patiently for the treat as he waves it in front of her.

Crouching down, Steve holds out the treat, which the cat devours hungrily, then strokes her head gently as Liz had shown him to do before.

"She'll be you bestie friend now," Liz humours, watching them fondly.

Steve chuckles as the cat brushes itself against him again, purring under the touch of his hand.

Liz suddenly swallows, moment ruined by her intrusive recollection of her experience. She begins, attempting with all her might to sound indifferent, "So, you said you saw Danny Waldron?"

"Oh, yeah," Steve says, giving the cat one last stroke before following her around the counter. He thanks her as she hands him a hot drink, "Thought I would try and catch him at his flat. Just on Throwley Gardens. Did you know he lived so close?"

Liz shakes her head, ignoring the way her heart begins to thump harder, "No, I had no idea."

"Yeah, saw him about ten minutes ago. Was sat outside in the car for a good forty minutes before he came running past like a madman," Steve explains, taking a sip of his drink, "Seems he went for a run and pushed himself a bit too hard. Looked like he was going to be sick."

Liz stays quiet, taking a sip herself.

"He must have come past here, by the direction he turned onto his road," Steve says, casually.

Liz's throat dries at the dawning possibility.

"Did you see him?" Steve asks, not yet catching on to her restrained panic.

"I don't think so," Liz mutters, her mind thinking back to her walk home.

The route he was supposedly running would fit. The timing would fit. The motive would fit.

Danny Waldron was following her.

She should have known, from the way he had looked at her back at the office the other day. It had unnerved her, the blankness in his stare. How it seemed so vacant yet _threatening_. Liz had thought, then, that he may have wrongly believed she was giving the team personal information on him. That would usually be the case, if he were a client, but not this time. She did not know the man well enough to have any valuable insight. But Liz understood how it may seem that way. For him to have seen her, someone he worked with, standing beside AC-12 as they questioned him on his private life. It had been the same with Denton, who had also wrongly assumed her involvement. From that experience and all the trouble Denton had caused her, it was not so unlikely Waldron was making his attempt at intimidation too - was it?

"What did he say when he saw you?" Liz squeaks through her dry throat.

"Insisted he had never heard of the suspect prior to the shooting," Steve shrugs, though seems distrustful, "Larger sections of Ronan Murphy's profile were redacted. It is possible there is something bigger going on here."

Liz hums, still a little distracted by her own revelation, "That's what I thought. Danny was always a stickler for the rules, always wanting to impress and serve at the highest standard of officer. He has always been... well, _difficult_. But I never assumed he would be capable of gunning down an innocent man."

She resists the urge to roll her eyes at herself. Even now? After the realisation of him being the one to follow her? How can she be so sure of what that man is capable of? Was she not, herself, now scared of him? Why would she be scared of a man if she did not think him capable of something terrible?

Steve raises a brow, "Well, easiest way to get away with killing someone-"

"Is be a police officer," Liz finishes for him, her heart palpatating wildly at the thought of Waldron committing murder. Perhaps, her insistence she did not think him capable was just a way of her easing her mind. Ignoring the worst possibility of his intention in following her.

Steve looks at her then, properly, her uneven tone catching his attention. She is glaring distractedly into her tea, eyes distant and blank. Liz chews her bottom lip, the flesh there becoming red and torn.

"Are you ok?" he asks, gently, putting this mug down to step a little closer.

Her head snaps up, Liz almost dropping her mug as if shocked by his voice. She stumbles, turning to put the mug on the counter as he had done. Tucking some hair behind her ear as her cheeks begin to redden, she fails to smile as she squeaks, "Fine, just tired."

Steve sighs, doubtfully. He decides against pushing, having learnt in the almost three years of knowing her to give her time. Liz struggles to admit when something is bothering her, despite being so painfully obvious about it. But he knows she will tell him eventually, when she wants to. Liz had always been so patient with him, the least he could do is the same for her.

She doesn't want to bother Steve, Liz tells herself as he looks at her, worriedly. He has enough on his mind than to be loaded with her, probably irrational worry. She didn't even know for sure if she was being followed, let alone if it was Danny Waldron. Surely, it was all just coincidence. There was no proof.

Knowing she will not say anything further, Steve finishes the last of his drink before stepping away from the counter.

"I should head home, Sam will be waiting up," Steve says, Liz feeling her heart pang.

"Yeah, of course," Liz says, Steve feeling _his_ heart pang.

Liz does not want him to go. She feels safe with him here. But that would be selfish to ask. Steve has a girlfriend he would rather be spending his time with.

Steve does not want to go. He can see something is upsetting her. But that would be selfish to ask. He has a girlfriend he should get back to. After the whole Hurrell thing, he was on thin ice as far as spending more time with Liz when he promised to be with Sam was concerned.

"Thank you, again, for the treats," Liz says, though sadly, as they walk to the door.

Steve gives the cat one last stroke before opening Liz's door and stepping out.

"I'll see you tomorrow at work," Steve says, standing on her doorstep, visibly reluctant to leave. He hopes Liz will invite him to stay a little while longer, or at least admit whatever was on her mind.

She doesn't.

"Goodnight, Steve," she says, quietly.

Steve nods, not wanting to push. He gives her one last wave before making his way out of the building.

Liz slowly closes the door as she watches him leave.

Perhaps, she should have told him, she thinks once the door is shut. But there was no proof and so far no need. Besides, if it were Waldron, the sooner they solved this case the sooner he could be behind bars. Then she would be safe - right?

* * *

"What is that all about?" Liz asks as she approaches Steve at his desk, looking over through the frosted windows to see Gill once again sat in Hastings' office.

Moving the phone in his hand away from his ear, Steve looks up at her. She notes his frown, it is as if she should know something.

Liz had only just entered the building, deciding after her ordeal last night, she deserved another hour in bed. She never took holiday, so she was sure Ted wouldn't mind filing it under that.

She had hoped to speak to Steve, confess something about her concerns over being followed by Waldron - or, at least, the possibility. He would want to know. And, after thinking it over, it was the only theory that made sense. The coincidences were a little _too coincidental_. But, upon seeing Gill in deep discussion with Ted as she arrived, Liz was curiously distracted.

Steve clears his throat, "We called in the rest of Waldron's team this morning."

"Oh?" Liz exclaims, "And what did they have to say for themselves?"

"All stick to their statements about Murphy's death," Steve explains, standing from his seat to move beside her, "Did Hastings not call you?"

Liz frowns, concerned at his lowered tone, "No, should he have?"

Steve puts his hand in his pockets, awkwardly, "Lizzie, Danny Waldron is dead."

"What?"

"Waldron was shot yesterday afternoon while on a mission," Steve explains, brow creasing in concern at her stunned expression, "He's dead."

Liz is at a loss for words. Her lips try to form some kind of verbal response but she is sure it is just hanging open, dumbfounded.

"I'm sorry, I know you knew him," Steve offers, reaching a hand out to comfortingly pat her arm.

"Hardly," Liz has to resist the urge to deliriously laugh.

If Waldron was dead, the following would stop. She didn't have to look over her shoulder every time she walked on her own. She didn't have to bother Steve with her problem. She could sleep again.

Liz feels terrible feeling relief at the news of a man's death. Waldron was trouble, but no one deserved that. As she had always believed, people like that just need help. It saddens her to think there was no one there for him in that way.

But that doesn't mean she is not relieved the torment will stop.

Trying to push her mouth downward to avoid smiling and confounding Steve, Liz just frowns, folding her arms as Steve removes his hand, "What does this mean for the investigation?"

"Well, the three of them claim Danny put the gun to his own head, they tried to help him and the gun went off."

"Do you believe them?"

"Kate was the one to run in and try to stop the bleeding. Says they were all standing around just watching," Steve explains.

"Kate was here?" Liz asks, having wondered how her friend was getting on since she went undercover a week ago, "Is she alright?"

Steve nods, "She's doing fine. Had to keep up the cover during the recording and in front of the other three officers, so didn't get much chance to ask. But she seems ok."

"Good," Liz affirms, pleased, "What did she tell you?"

"That she was downstairs when the incident happened, only ran up there when she heard the shot go off," Steve says, recalling her account, "Said Waldron tried saying something to her before he passed but she couldn't make it out."

Liz quietly huffs in disappointment, "So what's next? Why is Gill here?"

"Hastings arrested the three officers on suspicion of murder," Steve gestures to the phone in his hand and to Dot, stood a little away from them, also on the phone, "Just trying to arrange custody for them in stations where they aren't known."

Liz looks over to Hastings' office, seeing the outline of Gill still talking to the man. She rolls her eyes, "No doubt trying to call it off. Always more concerned with image than justice."

Steve follows her line of sight, humming in frustrated agreement before dialling a number on the phone and lifting it to his ear, waiting for an answer.

Just then, Hastings stands from his seat, moving to the window and knocking on it to catch their attention. Liz, Steve and Dot watch astounded as the older man gestures his hand slicing his throat, clearly ordering them to call-off their custody arrangements. Steve almost growls as he ends his call, telling the person on the other end of the line to cancel. Liz catches Ted's eye before he turns away again, seeing he is just as frustrated as they are. Though, she understands the position is in. If this comes from the lawyers and, more importantly, the head officer, there was little the man could do.

"Scrap that," Dot says as he walks over to them, ending his own phone call.

"Ted won't stop the investigation," Liz assures the two defeated-looking men, "I know he cares about seeing this one through."

Dot nods, "Yeah, just frustrating though. Thought we might be getting somewhere."

"And you still can," Liz assures, looking between Steve, who stressfully rubs his forehead, and Dot, who is glaring at the woman in the Superintendent's office, "We always thought there was more to Danny's background, a possible link to the suspect he shot. Why not keep digging?"

Steve nods, knowing he is right and having wanted to do the same. Dot also lets out a congruent grunt, looking away as Gill leaves the office and strides proudly out of the department.

Liz, also having ignored the woman and not given her the satisfaction of a glare, continues to assure the two AC-12 officers, "Just speak to Hastings. Maybe ask to search Danny's apartment? Send forensics? I'm sure that won't do too much harm to our 'public reputation'."

The two men look at eachother, clearly agreeing with her.

"Come on, Arnott," Dot says, a new air of confidence about him as he turns for Hastings' office, "Thanks, Queenie."

Liz smiles, not believing to have done much but glad the man seems a little less defeated, "Good luck."

"Yeah, thanks, Lizzie," Steve repeats after his initial irritation with Dot's mocking command, "Do you need a lift home?"

"Uh, no I can walk, thanks though," she smiles, waving before heading back to her own office, "Call me when you have something."

For the first time in a while, Liz finds herself rather looking forward to her walk home from work.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Another chapter I have managed to squeeze between university deadlines. I hope you enjoy it - and thank you to everyone who comments and reviews. It means so much to me! I hope you like where I am going with this...

"How did it go? Find anything?" Liz asks Steve as he returns to the office after searching Danny Waldron's flat.

"Nothing much," he shrugs, "Did you know anything about Danny having a dog?"

"Not that I know of," Liz shakes her head, "But like I said, I didn't really know him."

"An officer found it roaming around his flat, going to get the number on the collar checked out. Will need to head back out soon, though, so depends who is free to look into it."

"Oh, Maneet is free! I am sure she wouldn't mind," Liz gestures to the desks on the other side of the office where some PCs are sitting, working.

Steve frowns, "Who?"

"PC Maneet Bindra, she started a week ago," she explains, gesturing for him to follow as Liz leads him over to the woman's desk, "She's lovely. Maneet!"

The woman turns as her name is called, offering a wide, friendly smile when she sees Liz. Her eyes flit to Steve, her smile faltering slightly as the DS approaches, attempting to be professional, "Hello, sir, how can I help?"

"Trying to track the owner of a missing dog," Steve instructs, authoritatively, "I tried the number on its collar but it's out of service."

Maneet reaches for her notepad before looking back at the DS, smirking, "If you give me the number, Sarge, I'll try and get you a _lead_."

Steve rolls his eyes as Liz laughs beside him, heartily at the woman's joke. Maneet chuckles too, though quietens as she realises Steve's lack of patience.

"077009 00381," Steve drawls, unamused, "Just get it done."

Maneet nods her head, turning around in her seat and scribbling down the number. Liz sighs at his unnecessarily blunt response. She turns to follow Steve as he walks back to his desk, smiling as Dot meets them there, holding out his phone.

"Just had a call," the taller man says, "They've found some more evidence at the flat. Need us to take a look at it."

"Yeah, sure," Steve nods, "I can be there around fifteen-hundred?"

"I'll head there then too," Dot agrees, then informing the voice on the other end of the phone before ending the call.

"If you both have time before that, we could go and get coffee?" Liz suggests, noting the wearily stressed looks on their faces. It seemed they needed it.

Dot shakes his head, "Have to do a briefing on all we have so far. I'll hold you to it though."

"No worries," Liz smiles at the man as he turns to walk away, him also sending a polite smile to her before leaving.

"Let's go," Steve says, grabbing his jacket. Liz smiles wider at his eagerness, heading for her office to get her purse.

* * *

"I finished it," Steve says as they take a seat in their regular booth.

Liz's brow creases, confusedly, as she wraps her hands around her hot chocolate, "Finished what?"

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out an object at placing it in front of her. It is her book. The one she gave to him all those months ago. _Jane Eyre_.

She smiles.

"Does this mean I am finally forgiven now?" Steve teases, remembering she had given it to him as a promise of reconciliation after the Hurrell debacle.

"I suppose," she grins, mockingly, "Only took you a year."

They laugh as she reaches over to take the book, stroking the familiar cover gently and fondly before placing it beside her on the seat.

"What did you think?"

Steve's eyes widen as he lets out a deep breath, "It was alright. I get why _you_ would like it."

Liz raises an inquisitive brow.

"It's soppy."

Liz's jaw falls open as he shrugs, smirking. She can't help the grin that overpowers her false offence.

Steve chuckles, "Jane could do better. Rochester's an arrogant arsehole."

"Hm, remind you of anyone?" Liz challenges, thinking back to their first conversation about the book when she had compared him to the character.

He nudges her playfully with his foot under the table. She laughs again.

"You are right though," he admits with a sigh, still smirking, "There is definitely some similarity."

She hums, "Just imagining you in the billowing white shirt and breeches-"

"I meant _you_ ," Steve says through another laugh.

"Me?"

"You and Jane."

"What do you mean?"

Steve suddenly turns sincere, absentmindedly fiddling with the lid of his coffee cup, "You're both kind. A little too selfless. Never thinking of yourselves. Not realising how much you mean to people."

Liz swallows, her heart pounding at the compliment.

Steve's throat dries too as they look at each other, neither saying anything-

His phone rings.

"Hello?" he clears his throat as he picks it up.

Liz leans back in her seat, taking a sip of her hot chocolate to calm herself.

That had happened before, back when she realised the similarities between her, her friend and her favourite fictional couple. Liz had brushed it off, a strange coincidence she was probably exaggerating. But now that he had acknowledged it, too. It felt weird, for some reason.

"Yeah, I'll be there," Steve says after a moment of listening to the other voice, then hangs up the call with a frustrated sigh.

"Everything ok?"

"Dot went to the house early, said he has a briefing prepared for us when we get back."

"Us?" Liz asks.

"Yeah," Steve nods, "Said you were welcome."

"Oh," Liz fights a pleased smile, "Sure, I don't have that much work to do today anyway."

* * *

"Here," Dot says as they arrive, pulling out a spare desk chair for Liz to sit on.

She smiles at him, gratefully, as the man sits down himself and begins to brief the pair on the findings, "We seized a laptop and a phone. We don't have any more info on Danny Waldron's data files until the morning."

"Right," Steve affirms, though disappointed they did not have more.

Dot turns to his computer, drawing their attention to it as he loads some images. The first is of a gun, "Legal firearm, no information on its origin."

Dot begins to flick through as various forensic images appear, "Plus the case and its contents. A storage receipt we are trying to trace. A photo, looking into this and all."

Liz looks at the photograph on the computer. It shows a group of around ten young boys and two older men, all standing in some sort of sports kit. It seems old, perhaps from the early nineties. Was Danny in the picture?

"And then we have this," the next image shows a brown envelope with _Steve Arnott_ scribbled messily on the front.

Steve leans forward, frowning as he studies his name, "What was in it?"

Dot shakes his head with a shrug, "Nothing."

Liz turns to the two men, herself confused as to what this could mean, "An envelope with nothing inside?"

"That's what the report says," Dot informs them, leaning back casually in his chair, "Look, we need to have a quick operational briefing, right. Steve, you're following leads on Danny Waldron which means I'm after Baines, Brickford and Kennedy. That sound about right to you?"

"Yeah," Steve nods, "Good."

"Well, as Kate's undercover is on my side of the line," Dot says, almost hesitantly as Steve turns to look at him, "it's only proper if I look after liaison."

Steve stays quiet, Liz watching the conflict grow on his face. Dot's eyes flick to hers as Steve remains unresponsive, Liz offering him a small smile in encouragement.

"I thought you'd be happy, you know," Dot attempts, "avoiding skulking about in dark alleys."

Liz understands how Steve must be feeling. He was fortunate he got to see Kate when she was undercover, even if only briefly during liaisons. Liz considered herself lucky to get a text every now and then, reassuring her the woman was alright.

Steve shakes his head, timidly, unsure how to explain himself, "Kate and I have worked together for three years now-"

"And you've got a partnership, I get that," Dot pushes, though kindly, "But like I said, this is on my side of the investigation."

The taller man stands, patting Steve on the shoulder as he does, ending the conversation.

Steve sits there for another moment, Liz sighing and scooting her chair forward to speak to him.

"Come on, it's not so bad," Liz tries to assure him, "She's a big girl now, anyway."

Steve huffs, only slightly amused, "I know."

She also pats him on the shoulder as she stands form her seat, though it feels less patronising to him than Dot had. he sighs, looking back to the picture of the envelope with his name written on it.

Liz walks over to where Dot stands near the printer, him greeting her with a polite nod as she stands beside him.

"Thanks, for that," Dot says, gesturing with his head over to Steve. He must have seen her attempt to reassure him.

"Oh, no problem," Liz smiles, "He can be quite stubborn sometimes."

Dot just hums, causing Liz to chuckle at the obvious understatement.

"It is what's best for the investigation," she agrees.

He nods, "I'll let you know how she is."

"Yeah, please do. Thank you," she smiles up at him, "Oh, and maybe bring her a coffee or something? She would appreciate it."

Dot smiles back at her, "Got it. Cheers."

"And thank you, for letting me in on the briefing."

"No need. Told you, you're one of the team," he grins, good-heartedly.

Liz smiles again, feeling her heart flutter at the affirmation, then waves before beheading for her own office, "See you tomorrow."

* * *

"I should call Liz," Steve says as they stand in Linus Murphy's house.

PC Bindra ID-ed the number from the dog's collar to discover it was registered to Linus Murphy, brother of the suspect shot down by Danny Waldron. Himself and Dot, as well as several armed officers and forensics, now stood in his house - examining his dead, decapitated body. There were clear signs of torture, but no clue yet to the cause of death; the head having been removed post-mortem.

"I'll do it," Dot says, reaching into his pocket for his phone.

Steve snaps his head to him, a little too quickly, "Oh, uh-"

"Arnott, first you gate-keep Fleming-"

His eyes widen as the man types in her number, "I'm not-"

Dot smirks, tauntingly, "It is just a phone call, Arnott."

Steve struggles to respond. What was he implying? That Steve was jealous Dot was calling Lizzie? As if.

Steve huffs, moving away to talk to one of the forensics as Dot lifts the phone. Though, he remains close enough to listen in to the conversation.

"Queenie, hey," he hears Dot say down the phone, charmingly, "Yeah, yeah, we are fine. Steve's fine, yeah."

Steve smiles to himself at that.

"We found a body. Head removed post-mortem" Dot quietens as she responds, Steve imagining the concern and shock she is probably expressing, "I know, nasty stuff. Anyway, we need help trying to trace the head. No sign of it here."

Steve looks over to the bloody body Dot is referring to, his stomach queasing once again.

"Sounds perfect, cheers," Dot smiles down the phone, "Yeah, catch you later."

The taller man walks over to Steve as he ends the call, putting his phone back in his pocket. Steve turns to him, expectantly, grateful his attention has been retained away from the body.

"Liz mentioned the receipt we found at Waldron's," Dot says to him, "Said she would get Bindra on it. She's right, probably our best lead. Good thinking."

Steve hums, agreeing, though his chest panging slightly that Dot had the chance to compliment her for it first.

* * *

"The receipt relates to a storage company," Maneet explains to the three men standing behind her desk. Liz is sitting next to her, the two of them having worked late to find out the necessary information - hopefully it would be useful. It wasn't really her place, she supposes, but Dot had called her about finding a lead. So she considered her place on the team for this case solidified by that.

Liz only wanted to help. Besides, she got to know the other woman so much better during their few hours researching together. Maneet, knowing how well she got on with the three superiors, had asked her to stay, more for support as this was her first in-person briefing. Especially with her new Superintendent there.

So, here she was helping Maneet to brief Steve, Dot and Hastings on what they found.

"I am liaising with the storage company to find out which of their facilities the receipt originates from," Maneet says, looking between the three men.

"Good," Hastings smiles.

Maneet allows herself to smile slightly, Liz noticing her chest puffing out more confidently as she continues, "Danny Waldron's telecommunications history is very quiet in the days leading up to his death."

"There is one contact that stands out," Liz says, pointing to the image on the screen to indicate her point, "A call from a mobile lasting only two seconds. And then a text message from this same mobile number."

Maneet pulls up the log, an image of a woman appearing on screen along with the text beside it: ' _Hi Danny. Same again soon? Rachel X'_

Steve leans forward, looking at the image, then turning to Liz, "Got ID on the contact?"

"The mobile service provider has disclosed a registered user," Liz explains, "Maneet is just cross-checking with the DVLA to see if the driving license photo card matches the selfie in the text."

"Well done," Hastings once again affirms to Maneet, clearly understanding she must be nervous as the new PC.

"The hard-drive of Waldron's work computer hasn't revealed anything suspicious as yet," Maneet goes on, "and the same goes for the domestic laptop we seized. I'm still trying to trace this photo."

The image Dot has shown them previously of the boys' sports team appears on the screen.

"Good work," Steve nods.

"Aye, good work you two," Hastings offers.

Liz smiles, "Admittedly, it was mostly Maneet. I just sat here and talked her ear off."

Maneet grins, blushing.

Hastings pats her on the back as he goes to move away, "Welcome to the team."

"Thank you, sir," Maneet beams.

"Let me know when you get info on the storage facility," Steve says, sending a small smile to Liz before leaving for his own desk.

"See, that wasn't so bad," Liz says quietly to Maneet, aware Dot is still standing behind them, once again thoughtfully studying the image on the screen.

Maneet smiles at her, kindly, "Thank you."

"Anytime," Liz says as she stands from her chair, collecting her notebook and pen, "And hopefully I get to meet that baby of yours someday soon."

"I'll arrange a visit," Maneet grants, turning back to her computer.

Liz offers a final wave as she moves away from Maneet's desk, heading for her office when Dot follows beside her.

"Good work," he compliments with a smirk as they walk together.

"Oh, like I said, wasn't really me," Liz fights a blush.

"Still," Dot shrugs, the pair coming to a stop outside her office doorway, "You've been a great help."

"Thank you," Liz smiles, looking bashfully to her feet, wanting to change the subject away from her, "How was Kate? Did she like the coffee?"

Dot chuckles, "Would have thought I'd given her solid gold. Again, thank you for that one."

Liz laughs, "Happy to help."

Dot's smirk suddenly widens, his weight shifting to lean against the door, "Speaking of coffee, would you want to go for one at lunch?"

Her smile falters slightly. _Matthew Cottan_ was asking her out for a coffee? Not that it was an unlikely thing for two colleagues to do together but Dot had never asked her that before. Dot never really went for coffee with anyone. That was something her and Steve did.

She fixes her smile, not wanting to overthink something that was likely just a friendly gesture from colleague to colleague, "Uh, yeah, that would be nice! I usually take my break around 13:00 if that suits you?"

"Sounds good, yeah," Dot grins, pushing his shoulder off the doorway and casually putting his hands in his pockets, "See you then."

"See you then," Liz repeats as she watches him smirk at her and then walk away.

Following him with her eyes, intrigued, as the tall man passes the desks, she is careful to avoid Steve's eye.

If she had, she would see he had watched the entire exchange - and he was angry.

* * *

His grip on the steering wheel tightens as he makes his way to the storage facility.

He has no claim over her, Steve knows that. Liz was his friend and she could do whatever she liked whenever she liked with whoever she liked.

But that didn't stop the way his chest ached when he watched Dot ask her out for a coffee.

That was _their_ thing, always had been. Himself and Liz only had time together this way for the last few months, with him spending so much of his time outside of work with Sam. It was special to him in that sense. He supposes that was what is making him feel so uneasy.

Or perhaps it was that Dot was an arsehole. It was true, Steve had found himself getting along much better with the man over the last year or so of them working together in the AC-12 office. But it was difficult to forget the way Cottan had acted when part of the TO-20 squad and the way he had belittled him. Even now, there are times he feels Dot pulls rank a little too liberally. Steve doesn't want the same to happen to her. That was all.

Whatever the reason was, he does not really understand. But what he understands even less is why this is all he can think about while driving to possibly retrieve a severed head.

Maneet was able to confirm the location of the storage facility that was on the receipt found at Waldron's flat. So he was on his way to-

And the things Dot had said about women when they went for the curry over a year ago. The coffee may not necessarily be a date, but he would not want Lizzie to be treated the way his ex-wife and those poor women at the restaurant had been.

 _Anyway_ , the storage place should just be around this corner-

Was it a date?

Steve could see why Dot would want it to be. Liz was kind and gentle and, well, _pretty_. Steve was not blind, Liz was a very beautiful woman. Any man would surely be attracted to her, even more so once they got to know her. Especially if they knew her as well as he did.

Maybe that was what worried him. That someone, someday, could know her better than he did. They were friends, _best_ friends. They knew each other more than they knew themselves. If she were to find someone, that could come between them. Of course, he was with Sam now and things had been fine. Sure, there had been a few incidents where his girlfriend would berate him for spending too much time with another woman - the Hurrell incident perhaps being the trigger for that. But overall, things had remained good.

So what was he so worried about? Why could things not be the same if she were to find someone too? Does he not want her to be happy, as he is?

No. That wasn't it.

 _Anyway_ , it looks like he can just pull up into the car park. Hopefully someone is at reception to show him the way-

Steve thinks of the Hurrell incident now. The way that man had touched her. How she had frozen, scared. He never wants her to be in a situation like that again. He only wants her to be safe, to not ever be taken advantage of. Who knows what Dot is after? Lizzie is not naïve. He regrets ever having given the impression he thought so. But someone needs to look out for her. Why not Steve?

He sighs as he pulls into the storage facility car park. Steve lets his head fall onto the steering wheel, gathering himself for a moment - overwhelmed by the thoughts of Dot and Lizzie running through his head, and the impending realisation of what he might be about to face in one of these containers - before stepping out of the vehicle.

* * *

"Thank you," Liz smiles as Dot places her hot drink on the table and sits down across from her.

"Hope I got it right," Dot chuckles, taking a swig of his coffee, "Hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows."

"Absolutely!" she beams, indulging in her first sip.

"So, how have you been?" Dot asks, politely.

"Not too bad," Liz shrugs, deflecting, not liking it when the conversation's attention is on her, "How about you? Enjoying the promotion?"

"Bet you never thought you'd see me where I am now when we first met," Dot smirks, reminding her of their initial appointment together all those years ago.

"I wouldn't say that," Liz offers, kindly, "I am glad you're doing better."

They had first met when Dot was suspended due to gambling debts, something that worsened throughout his divorce period. Liz was assigned as his counsellor, in her early days of wellbeing work. They had only met twice, but in that time she believed she knew enough about the man; arrogant, argumentative, aggravating arsehole.

Looking back, Liz recognises he had just been transferred to TO-20 a month prior to their meeting - and those boys were a bad influence on anyone. The school-boy culture of bullying others just to be accepted by others - a concept Liz never quite grasped or even wanted to understand herself. Nigel Morton was an especially bad influence. He had made it his duty to make her as unwelcome and uncomfortable as possible every time she dared step foot in that office. And that ended up being quite often, with the amount of appointments he would book just to torment her, knowing she was unable to refuse. Dot, at the beginning, had seemed no better. As if he wanted to prove himself to be one of the _lads_.

Though, throughout their one-to-one meetings - despite only having two - Liz gathered the sense that behind all the cockiness and smirks, there was something _sad_ behind his eyes. She had seen it a few times around the AC-12 office too. Dot Cottan was quite clearly burdened. Every officer is. Every _person_ is. Everyone has troubles. Liz had assumed, back then, it was his struggles with gambling addiction and, of course, the split from his wife. But over time, seeing him now in the same office each day, Liz believed it was more than that. Some day, if he would allow her to, she would like to know what.

After working closely with the man for over a year, Liz had actually grown to quite like him. He was cocky, yes. A little _too_ cocky sometimes, absolutely. But he was also charming and kind and had always made an effort to include her in various cases. When she volunteered to go undercover, he had made a point of believing her capable - even Steve had shown his doubts. But Dot stood up for her.

She supposes he had always been the nicer one out of the TO-20 lads. At least, more so than the others, she was able to hold a mature conversation with him lasting at least two minutes. He made quips at her, laughed at Morton's crude insinuations, and even continued to call her by that _damn_ nickname. But she now sort of liked it? It was like a joke between the two of them - a teasing reminder of how different their relationship was not so long ago.

Even Steve was getting along with him now, no matter how much he may try to argue that. Dot had proved himself a reliable and emerging essential member of the anticorruption team. Sure, there was the occasional teasing and often failed attempts at banter with a stoic Steve - but Matthew 'Dot' Cotton had been nothing but polite and amiable with her. Besides, he had just bought her favourite hot drink. How could she not like the man in this moment?

She meant it. Liz was glad he had recovered from his addiction. She may not have had many appointments with the man, but she had enough experience of clients with various dependencies to know how uncontrollable and devastating they can be. No one deserved that, especially someone who has made an active attempt to redeem themselves and be friendly with her.

Dot shakes his head, bashful at the reference to his past, "Enough of that. This isn't the time for a session."

Liz chuckles, agreeing but also a little embarrassed at his amused accusation.

Dot smirks as she blushes, "How's the network going?"

"Good," she beams, delighted he asked, "Slowly getting things together. Actually managed to assign a permanent wellbeing officer for TO-20 the other week."

"Poor them," Dot huffs, humoured.

Liz giggles, "Do you still speak to them? Morton?"

The man sighs, "Not really. Wouldn't exactly have deemed them _mates_. Have the occasional meet-up with Morton but nothing too chummy. You should come along next time. Am sure he would be happy to see you."

He laughs as Liz cringes, rolling her eyes, "I would rather clean up the shit you left in Steve's car."

"That wasn't my idea!" Dot guffaws, pointing a defensive finger at her.

"Then you are still guilty by association," Liz jests, a confident brow raised.

Dot lowers his finger, exaggeratedly turning his mouth upward, "Fair point."

Liz chuckles, lifting the hot chocolate to her lips once again.

"I'm content," Dot nods, suddenly sincere, "Feel like AC-12's the right place for me."

Liz sends him a small, endeared smile, surprised by his earnestness after endless humouring, "I do too."

Dot looks at her then, pleased but also with a glint of gratitude in his eye. It was as if that opinion of hers really mattered to him. Like he needed to hear it.

His shoulders roll back and he sits a little straighter, "Well, to riddling out the crooks and winning all the books."

Liz grins as he raises his coffee cup in a mock-toast. She lifts her almost-empty hot chocolate to meet his in the middle.

Just then, a phone starts ringing. Liz looks down to her bag beside her but does not see the light of her screen. Dot across from her pulls out his own mobile, the screen displaying a familiar name.

The man clears his throat, putting it to his ear, "Arnott?"

Liz leans forward a little in her seat, hoping to catch on to at least part of the conversation. Unfortunately, Steve seemed to be speaking in his usually low, growl and so she was unable to hear.

"Right," Dot drawls, face now stern, "I'll be there soon. Cheers, mate."

Liz watches Dot expectantly curious as he hangs up the call, putting his phone back into his pocket.

He catches her confused eye, sighing, "He's at the storage facility. He found the head."

Liz's stomach jolts, "Poor Steve. That must be horrible."

Dot hums in agreement, though chews on his lip as if conflicted, "Look, I should go-"

Liz shakes her head and waves him off, "No, of course. Please, go. I should be heading back to work now anyway. I will text him but please tell Steve I hope he is ok and to call me as soon as he can."

"Sure," Dot slides out of the seat, tossing his now empty cup into a nearby bin, "I'll catch you later, yeah?"

Liz nods, hoping so.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoy this one! I love writing for Denton, so am glad season three gives me another chance. please do let me know what you think, you comments make me so incredibly happy!

"Is Sam going to be there?" Liz asks, curious and also a little wary.

"Yeah, I just hoped you would be too," Steve's voice says down the phone.

Liz, not needing to ask for his reasons when she hears the pleading tone to his voice, admits, "I was thinking of going anyway, after everything."

Lindsay Denton's retrial.

Steve had recently applied for the court to make an exemption so that he would not have to testify. He and the lawyer assigned by Gill argued the disclosure of covert tactics may undermine current and future operations. Unfortunately, the Judge declared that it is based on this evidence that the defendant had a successful appeal to be retried for her original convictions. The application was denied.

Today, Steve has to face Lindsay again and testify. Liz has no doubt Steve is nervous. No case or suspect had affected the team in the way Denton had.

"I have an appointment but I will be there straight after," Liz affirms, "I might not get to see you beforehand so… good luck."

"Thanks, Lizzie," he says before hanging up.

A few hours later, Liz is sitting beside Sam in the pews. In front of her sits Gill, with Ted beside the woman.

She had tried to appear confident when she arrived with Ted and met the others in the foyer. Liz attempted to ignore the apprehensive twisting of her gut as they were called into their seats. Sam quite clearly doing her best to avoid any attempt Liz made at conversation did not make matters better.

Liz had looked down as she entered the courtroom, unfortunately anxious to meet eyes with that woman again. She could sense where Denton was sitting, behind a stall on the other side of the room. She wondered, on her way over, what Lindsay would think to see her there today. When Liz learned she had been granted a retrial, Liz knew she had something up her sleeve. If not to get herself free but to get revenge on them for locking her away. She dreaded to think what.

Steve walks up to the bar. Her stomach jolts again. She can feel Sam shift in her seat beside her, nervous too. Yet, Sam did not know Denton. Of course, Steve must have talked about her. But, unlike Liz and her friends, she had not come under fire to know how much of a threat this woman posed. Denton was a difficult woman to explain and an even more difficult woman to understand.

"Please state your name for the court," the Judge demands.

Liz watches as Steve swallows, folding his hands together, "Detective Sergeant Steven Arnott."

Ebele Falana, a lawyer Liz had met a few times in the past, who would be representing the prosecution, stands, "Detective Sergeant Arnott, could you please tell the court how you came to be involved in the investigation surrounding the defendant?"

Steve takes in a deep breath, eyes flicking to Denton before snapping back to the attorney and jury, "I was and still am a serving detective in AC-12. On September 5th 2013, there was an attempt on the life of a protected witness; John Thomas Hunter. A police convoy was ambushed causing the deaths of three police officers. AC-12 was assigned to investigate the possibility of police complicity in the conspiracy to assassinate Hunter. And our inquiry focussed on the officer who led the convoy and was the sole survivor."

"And this officer was the defendant?"

"Yes, former Detective Inspector Lindsay Denton."

Liz looks over to Denton for the first time, then. The woman, looking almost shabby and weary in her suit, is glaring at Steve. To anyone else, certainly the jury, this look would seem inconsequential. No doubt, Lindsay does not want to risk alienating them by appearing threatening. But they know her better. They have seen that look before. Liz lets out a small, shaky breath.

They had thought this was over, Liz laments as she hears Steve re-explain the case as he had done to her so long ago. Lindsay had been behind bars for over a year, now. They were moving on.

But, of course, Denton could not allow that.

"Detective Sergeant Arnott, did you give evidence at the defendant's original trial?" the defense attorney asks.

"Yes, I did."

"Was there any significant evidence discovered at the defendant's home?"

"A hidden sum of cash was found."

"Found where exactly?"

"In some items belonging to the defendant's late mother."

"Specifically, the overnight case," the defense directs to the jury before turning back to Steve, "how did that make its way to the defendant's bedroom?"

"I carried it up for her."

"Why?"

"I was carrying out an undercover operation to investigate the defendant."

The defense counsel smirks, "And who authorised this undercover operation?"

"My commanding officer, Superintendent Hastings," Steve says with a gesture of his head to where Ted sat in the front row.

Ted nods back, assuringly.

"When?"

"The operation was authorised retroactively," Steve explains.

"After you carried the case belonging to the defendant's late mother up to the bedroom, what did you do?"

"I offered my sympathies, then turned the conversation to the conspiracy to murder Tommy Hunter," Steve says, visibly starting to become irritated by the line of questioning. Liz wonders where this is going.

"Did you ever spend a night at the defendant's house?"

"No, I did not," Steve bites.

"Part of a night?"

He sighs, "Yes."

Liz feels Sam shift again beside her. Her stomach jolts. _Oh._

"Until what time?" The defense unrelents.

"Three, four in the morning."

"If you are unsure of the exact time, Detective Sergeant, you may refer to your pocketbook."

Steve stands there, awkwardly silent.

"You did record in your pocketbook every time you stayed with the defendant," the defense patronises, "Didn't you?"

Liz sees Hastings' shoulders sag slightly in front of her.

"No, I was undercover," Steve argues, "If she sneaked a look at it, she would have found out what I was up to."

"What were you doing with the defendant until three or four in the morning?" the defense counsel says, suggestively.

Liz shakes her head slightly, dropping her gaze to her entwined fingers in her lap.

"Talking. My operation was designed to win the defendant's trust," Steve defends.

"You were endeavouring to create a close, personal relationship with the defendant?" the lawyer twists.

"No," Steve denies, eyes glancing over to where Liz sits as if directing it to her - and Sam, of course. Neither woman is looking back at him; Sam is looking to her feet and Liz is watching Denton, "Only to create the appearance of a close relationship. I was working."

"Are there any specific operational rules associated with an undercover operation with respect to the closeness of such a relationship?"

Steve scratches his head, "Yes."

"Would a sexual relationship be acceptable during an undercover operation?"

Liz feels her cheeks heat, embarrassed for Steve. And also, perhaps, a little infuriated with him.

"Under current guidelines, no," Steve almost shouts.

"Was that the reason you didn't seek authorisation for your undercover operation-"

"My lady," Ebele interjects to the Judge, "we've already established that the operation was authorised retrospectively."

"Move on, Miss Hepburn," the Judge demands of the defense.

The defense counsel nods, looking down to her notes before turning back to Steve, "How many times were you alone with the defendant in her home?"

"About a dozen."

"At this time, was the case against the defendant going well?"

"It was work in progress," Steve drawls.

Liz resists the sudden, impulsive urge to let out an incredulous laugh as she recalls the difficulty of the case.

"But you needed a key piece of evidence to crack the case."

"My job is to find any and all evidence," Steve contends.

The defense pauses, gesturing to the small crowd behind her, "Would you please remind the court… Who found the cash?"

"A forensic search team."

"Led by whom?"

Steve hesitates, "Me."

Gill rubs the back of her neck as Hastings shakes his head. Sam sucks in a quick, deep breath beside Liz.

Liz has her eyes on Denton. The woman stares, blankly. But Liz knows she is pleased. There is a familiar, disturbingly satisfied glint in her eye as she watches Steve squirm. She has planned this.

Not only was the retrial bringing up past frustrations with the case, but Denton was making it personal again. She knows there was tension about Steve going undercover. She knows planting evidence is hot gossip. She knows _sexual_ misconduct by male police officers swelters in the press. And Liz knows Denton is clever enough to use that against them.

But she also knows what Steve is like - or used to be. Liz herself has berated him for his… endeavours with women… more times than she wishes to remember. He has Sam now, and they are happy. But a year ago, at the time of this case, had he not indulged in inappropriate relations with not only another colleague but a witness? Liz knows Steve. And it hurts her heart to admit that means she knows there is a possibility these suggested accusations are true.

Steve is waiting for them in the foyer when they leave the courtroom. He is stressed, Liz can see that in the way his hands are rubbing against his thighs and the way he has loosened his tie a little. His eye widen as he sees them approach, taking a hurried step closer to meet with them.

"I never-"

He deflates as Sam storms past him, out of the building. Steve watches her go for a moment before turning back to Lizzie who remains standing, also watching the woman quite rightfully need a moment to herself.

"Lizzie, I never-"

"Steve," Liz cuts off his desperate pleading, her stomach twisting more ruthlessly at his strained expression, "I am not the one you need to explain yourself to."

Steve sighs, frustrated, as she avoids his eye, continuing to look in the direction his girlfriend disappeared in.

She was annoyed with him, he can see that. He can hear it in her restrained voice. Lizzie was never so closed off. But her words send a flicker of hope through his heart that she was trying to understand. She knew what Denton was like. And she knew what he was like, too. Surely Lizzie could see what was happening here-

Steve stops himself before his mouth opens again. Despite every fibre of his being telling him to stay and ask for her understanding, he knows Lizzie is right. Sam deserves an explanation.

He huffs, fixing Lizzie one last desperate glance before jogging in the direction Sam had left.

Liz watches him go, saddened. Her mind is blank, unsure what to think or how to feel. Of course she was thinking of his girlfriend, not wanting Steve's stubbornness to ruin what they had. But, admittedly, part of her just wanted him to leave her alone. To give her time to process it all. It was bad enough having to recollect the actual Denton case once again, let alone all this added suspicion of him-

She can't even think about it. She doesn't want to.

Liz hears Ted speaking to Gill somewhere behind her in the foyer. Moving over to join them once Steve is out of sight, Ted is shaking his head, "I can guarantee 110-percent that none of my people would plant evidence. They know I would throw the book at them, and then the whole bookshelf."

"I know you would, Ted," Gill sighs, pulling out her phone, "I need to make a few calls."

Ted curses under his breath as the woman walks away, "That lad will be the death of me."

She remains quiet, for once unsure hope to defend him like she usually would jump at the chance to. Ted notices, dreading that even Liz was unable to deny the chances of such a damning accusation.

"Beth?" Ted prompts, almost pleading her to give her own insight instead of standing there, timidly void of, well, anything.

Liz looks up at her godfather, settling on something to say despite the onslaught of thoughts running through her head, "I will be here again tomorrow to hear Denton's testimony."

Ted nods, perturbed by her impassivity.

* * *

She had ignored his calls last night. She needed time to think, to consider everything over and over.

Even now, as she sits watching Denton take her place at the stand, Liz struggles to determine any sort of feeling. On one hand, she believes Denton to be more than capable of playing another of her cruel games. Doing as she has done before, using something so personal to get back at them for convicting her. Then again, she believes it possible Steve had made that mistake. It would be naive and biased of her to deny the likeliness of the chance.

Liz knows Denton, she was her counsellor; and Liz knows Steve, she is his friend.

"I do solemnly, sincerely and truly declare and confirm that the evidence I shall give will be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth," Liz hears Denton say from the stand.

It feels strange, Liz thinks, hearing the woman's voice. She had hoped to never have to hear that bothersome performative tone again.

"Miss Denton, last year you were convicted in the court because ten out of twelve jurors were sure you'd conspired in the murder of a protected witness, John Thomas Hunter," the defense explains, "Would you tell this jury if you were guilty of this crime?"

"No," Denton declares, "I had nothing to do with the murder of Tommy Hunter."

Liz can hear Ted frustratedly mutter something in front of her.

"We have heard from Detective Sergeant Arnott that one important item of evidence against you was a sum of approximately £50,000 in cash found in your home. To the best of your knowledge, how was that evidence found?"

Denton nods, "I have full knowledge of how it was found as I was present at that time. Detective Constable Kate Fleming led me upstairs where a team of forensic scene investigators led by Detective Sergeant Arnott were in the process of searching my bedroom. Detective Sergeant Arnott remarked upon the fact I'd shown peculiar interest in my mum's personal belongings."

"Peculiar? In what way?"

"Detective Sergeant Arnott remarked that I had been anxious about mum's things not being returned to me after her death."

"Were you?"

"I was devastated… by her death," Denton's voice wobbles, expertly, "The thought of them being lost was heartbreaking. I kept them in that room and I didn't even touch them, I- I didn't even try to move them, I just-"

Liz sighs. Here we go again. So, very moving…

"As long as they were there," Denton sniffs, ridding herself of invisible tears, "somehow it felt to me that my mum was there."

"Are you okay to carry on, Miss Denton?" the defense counsel asks, the courtroom watching as Denton purses her lips in a silent sob.

Denton takes a pause for dramatic effect, "Yes. Detective Sergeant Arnott asked one of the forensic search team to open mum's overnight case."

"And what was found in the case?"

"A large number of bank notes."

"Had you ever seen these bank notes before?"

"Never."

"How did you react?"

"Astonished, devastated, confused," Denton lists.

"And how did Detective Sergeant Arnott react?"

"He didn't bat an eye."

"He didn't seem surprised? Or curious? Or triumphant?"

"No," Denton shakes her head.

Liz folds her arms, infuriated by the woman's nerve. _This_ was who Lindsay Denton was. Manipulative, scheming and bloody good at being so. Liz would not for even a second entertain the idea that Steve would plant evidence.

"And how would you describe your relationship with Detective Sergeant Arnott until that point?"

Liz sits up a little straighter, her arms still folded defensively.

"I thought we'd become friends."

"You became close?" the defense counsel asks.

"Yeah."

"An undercover officer is forbidden from sexual relations with a perosn they are investigating-"

"My lady," Ebele once again interjects, "the investigating officer's relationship with the defendant has no bearing on the abundant and powerful evidence against her."

"My lady," the defense rebuts, "an undercover officer must abide by a code of conduct. Failure to follow that code of conduct implies there are other rules he might be prepared to break."

"I'll allow the question," the Judge determines, to Liz's dismay.

"While undercover and investigating you," the defense almost proudly asks, "did Steve Arnott engage in sexual relations with you?"

There is a pause. A tense hush falls over the room as the attendant awaits Denton's response.

Liz holds her breath.

It hitches as Lindsay turns to look at her. Directly in the eye. Singling her out in the crowd. Her gaze blank in that familiarly threatening way of hers.

Liz glares back, ignoring her shock and unwilling to relent in the suggested challenge.

"Yes," Lindsay Denton asserts.

* * *

"DS Arnott," Hastings calls as he walks past the man's desk, expecting him to follow.

All eyes are on the younger man as he walks behind the Superintendent to his office, the door slamming behind them.

"Remain standing," Hastings orders.

Steve panics for a moment. He had not been present at the trial today, after having been advised by GIll to remain as distant as he can while things were cleared up or he was called for again. Lizzie had not called him to tell him how it had gone. In fact, Lizzie had ignored all his calls over the last day and night. That concerned him.

"Did you have sexual relations with a suspect you were investigating whilst undercover?" Hastings asks, blunt.

Steve shakes his head, still offended by the insinuation and realising this means Denton had supported this claim during her testimony, "Lindsay Denton is going to say anything to con the jury."

"Did you or didn't you?" the older man growls.

"No, sir," Steve defends, "I did not."

"If that's your answer."

"It is my answer, sir," Steve bites back, infuriated at the lack of belief in him.

"She claims that when the money was found you didn't bat an eye, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Why would that be?"

Steve sighs, "The search team had established the find prior to Denton entering the premises. I ordered them to simulate making the find in front of her. To see her reaction."

Hastings rolls his eyes, "You make the find, you show her, there's your reaction. You were showboating!"

"Yes, sir," Steve snaps back.

"I'll give you 'yes, sir', the defense is using this to discredit your work and the work of this department," Hastings berates, beginning to pace to burn off some irritation, "Your team was bossing the game, you went and gave away a penalty!"

"Yes, sir," Steve repeats.

Hastings takes in a deep breath through his nose, voice darkening, "You are hurting the case. And you are hurting a lot of people here. Stop only thinking for yourself."

Steve frowns, perplexed at that. Hurting who? Him and Sam had talked, and they were fine-

A knock and the sound of the door opening interrupts the two men. Steve turns to look at whoever had just entered the room, heart pounding to see Lizzie.

She's avoiding his gaze, looking past him to Hastings, "I have some files for you."

Ted nods, reaching out for her to pass them, "Thank you, Beth."

Lizzie nods once the files are in his hand, turning on her heel and heading back out of the door without any acknowledgement of the younger man.

Steve deflates, his cockiness vanquished as he looks awkwardly to his shoes, listening to the door close cruelly behind her.

"Get out of here," Hastings mutters, waving a hand.

Steve hurries out of the door, eager to catch up to Liz before she has the chance to disappear on him again.

"Lizzie!" he calls out, seeing her approach her office.

Her heartbeat quickens, as does her step. He jogs to reach her before her office door can close.

"Lizzie," he says her name again, moving to stand in front of her and block her way through the door.

She still avoids his eye, though stops walking. He would only keep bothering her otherwise.

"You alright?" he asks, genuinely concerned by the way she had been avoiding him. He had been put through enough grief over it from Sam last night to recognise the woman was disappointed in him.

"I have work to do," Liz responds, unsure what else to say.

How can she explain to him that she believes him? Or that she doesn't believe him? Or that she doesn't know what the hell to believe? How can she explain to him she hopes he is alright and knows she is there for him as he goes through what Denton is, once again, putting them through? Or that she is furious at him for allowing Denton to be, once again, putting them through this? How can she explain the glare the woman sent her today affirmed to her this was all motivated by personal revenge? Or that, despite warning him against doing so, she is being a hypocrite and falling for it anyway? How can she explain she trusts him but is disappointed by what this means for the case, after all the team went through? Or that she is struggling to trust him and is disappointed by what this means for their friendship, after all the two of them went through?

She had warned him and he refused to listen. And here they were.

"Maybe we could get a coffee later, then?" he asks, hopeful.

She cringes, "I have a meeting."

"Oh," he says, dumbly, unable to think of a cover through the pains in his chest, "Ok."

She tries to send him a small smile, to let him know she just needs time alone to think things through. It comes out like a grimace.

Moving past him without another word, she shuts the door to her office behind her.

Steve sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead. _What have I done?_

* * *

Liz almost runs home that evening, desperate for the comfort of her bed. She needed space; away from AC-12, away from the case, away from Steve Arnott.

Stepping through into her apartment, she almost trips over a small pile of mail on the doorstep. Picking it up and throwing it on the side counter, Liz discards her coat onto the sofa and collapses into the pillows.

"Saoirse!" she calls, eager for a cuddle with the cat. Her softly furred friend was always the best remedy for her ever-increasing headache.

Liz listens out for the tiny pitter-patter of paws on her wooden floor. When there is no such sounds, Liz calls out again. Usually, the animal would run and pince on her as soon as she stepped through the door. Perhaps she was sleeping.

Liz stands from the sofa, looking around her living room for the cat. Moving over to the kitchen to put the kettle on, Liz calls out once more.

Nothing.

Cats could be stubborn little things.

As the kettle boils, Liz picks up the pile of mail. She throws them down as she determines their sender. _Bills, bills, bills-_

Liz frowns at the last envelope remaining in her hand. It is a small white envelope with what feels to be something solid and small inside. Heer name, ' _Elizabeth Thornton'_ is scrawled messily on the front, with no sign of a return address. In fact, her own address is not visible either. Whoever had sent it must have put it through her door themselves.

Curious, Liz turns over the envelope and begins to open it, tearing at the paper on one side. Once open, she peers inside.

Her stomach sinks at what she sees. She throws the envelope hastily to the ground. Tears immediately begin to fall. She gags.

_A cat's paw._


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I am too happy with this chapter but I hope you are all able to see what I am trying to do! Just want to get as much of this out as I can whenever I can for you all.
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you to everyone for reading, especially those of you who have left comments and reviews. It really does mean so much to me and motivate me to keep writing. Some of you have been so loyal to this fic, and I can only hope I can repay my gratitude by continuing to write something you all enjoy reading!

Steve's desk is empty when Liz heads over to it the next morning. She needs to tell him about what has happened. It now overrides everything; Waldron, Denton, all of it.

Liz was not an investigator nor was she Steve's partner. Telling herself she has no professional or personal reason to be upset with the man, Liz made the decision last night to find him and tell him the truth about being followed and - she can't even think about it. The thought of it makes her sick.

But he will want to help. She knows it. She needs it.

"You alright?" a voice asks behind her as she looks around the office.

"Oh, yeah," Liz tries to smile as Dot moves to stand beside her by the desk, "Have you seen Steve?"

"Out putting pressure on Hari Bains," Dot explains, "What do you need?"

Liz's smile falters, "Just wanted to talk to him about something."

She worries he can see the disturbance in her eyes. That he can feel the anxiety radiating off her. The concerned questioning in his gaze suggests to her he has noticed the way she was wringing her hands together and shifting her weight from one foot to the other, impatiently.

"You can talk to _me_?" Dot shrugs, though looking sincere.

Liz is tempted. Dot had been nothing but kind to her recently. The way he was looking at her now made her heart ache.

She needs to talk to someone, she knows. And she doesn't want to be alone, not now.

"It isn't important, just something about paperwork," she curses herself for the lie, wishing she had given in to the urge to confess what has been happening to her.

Dot nods, unconvinced.

Liz attempts another smile and goes to move past him for her office, but the man calls out for her again. She stops, raising a wondering brow.

"Do you like chilli?"

Liz lets out a breathy, quizzical laugh. That was the last thing she thought he would ask her after the way she had just acted.

Dot turns bashful, stepping closer to her to avoid the eavesdropping ears of the office, "I've got a pot on the simmer back."

Liz's brow raises higher in confusion, though a smile remains on her face at his amusing sheepishness about whatever he was asking.

He rubs the back of his neck as she stares up at him, clearly not understanding his suggestion, "Always end up making more than I need."

Liz only looks at him, unsure what to say as she slowly realises his intention. He is inviting her back to his for dinner tonight. The corners of her mouth twitch as her jaw hangs slightly open, struggling to respond.

"You probably have plans," he shakes his head, as if berating himself for asking. She panics, assuming he thinks her silence is a rejection.

"No," she says, rather quickly and louder than intended, stopping him from turning away, "I love chilli."

Liz is relieved to see him relax, putting his hands casually into his pockets. A smile lights up his face, as does hers.

"Ok. Great," he grins, "Uh, I finish at 18:00. I'll come by your office."

"Sounds good, yeah," she fights down a blush, surrendering to her own smile, "See you then."

"See ya," he smiles, looking at her for another moment before walking away to his desk.

She remains standing there for a moment, watching Dot walk away. Her stomach twists - though not with the tormenting uneasiness she had grown so used to in the last few days. No, this felt different. A _good_ different.

* * *

"Thank you," she smiles as the man sits beside her on the sofa, placing a bowl of hot chilli in front of her, "Looks lovely."

Dot huffs, humbly, rolling up his shirt sleeves and stirring his bowl with a spoon for a moment, "All thanks to a pre-prepared-packet. Was going to try and play it off as my own but worried you would see right through me."

She smiles, stirring the bowl herself, "Still, thank you."

"You're welcome."

The journey to his flat had been pleasant enough, even despite the update she received on the Waldron case. Rod Kennedy, one of the officers present when Danny was shot, was found to have hung himself in a warehouse nearby. Dot says he believes Rod was the one to have killed Danny, then topped himself out of guilt. Kate has been instructed to increase direct surveillance on Hari Bains, one of the other PCs, to see if he reveals any more direct evidence of this. Liz was grateful when that part of the conversation ended. Not because of the gruesome details, but any thought of Danny Waldron scared her.

He was dead. And yet, someone continued to torment her at her home. So who?

"You ok?" Dot asks her, Liz blushing as she realises she was lost in thought over the incident again.

"Yeah, sorry, just tired from work," she only half-lies.

Dot glances at her, disbelieving. She ignores the look, taking a bite of the food and humming, delightedly, "This is good!"

Dot smiles, "Not too fiery?"

"I'll cope," Liz jokes, taking another bite.

"If you go to the trouble of making a pot, you might as well make it last a few days, you know," Dot says, "One night have it with rice, one night baked potato."

Liz chuckles, still finding this whole situation quite strange but enjoying herself. It was endearing, seeing him like this. The way she viewed him when they first met all those years ago was so far from the man sitting across from her now. That man was brash and crude, but this man was sweet and generous with a slightly boyish but easy sense of humour. And she liked this Dot.

Dot laughs too, "Rock and roll, me."

The pair eat the food quietly for another moment before Dot speaks up again, "You live alone?"

"Yeah, just me and the cat-" she swallows, realising her mistake. Liz puts down her fork, reaching rather shakily for her glass of water, taking a large sip to wash down the bile that has risen in her throat.

Dot doesn't seem to notice, having been looking at his own bowl of food.

"What about you? Seeing anyone?" she says, attempting to cover up the way she had choked, glancing around his empty flat.

He shakes his head with a small smirk, "Nah, not yet."

She smiles at that. There was that wit again.

"How is Sally?" she asks after his ex-wife, remembering their name from their appointments.

"Don't see her much nowadays," he admits, shrugging, "Not like there is much reason to without kids or nothing."

"She was an officer too, right?"

"Forensics," he corrects, Liz nodding as she recalls it, "You ever wanted kids?"

Liz is almost taken back by the question, "Honestly, never really thought about it. Guess that isn't something I would consider unless I find the person I would want them with."

Dot hums, "Never got round to it. Besides, not exactly cut out for it."

Liz puts down her spoon, frowning, "What do you mean?"

"No, no, no," he says, waving his own spoon at her, "Not tonight. None of that wellbeing stuff. We are just two friends enjoying a mediocre chilli."

Liz laughs, nodding in agreement. She was using that work voice again. She didn't mean to. It just happened naturally with her, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he insists, "It's sweet."

She feels her cheeks heat at that, moving her gaze down to her food and taking another bite to calm herself. Dot smirks, watching her, pleased by the reaction.

"So," Liz starts, hoping to redeem the conversation, "I have always wanted to ask. Why 'Dot'?"

He chuckles, "And I thought you were the most intelligent woman I had ever met."

She blushes at the compliment but laughs at the juxtaposed tease.

" _Dot Cottan_ ," he repeats, "As in _Dot Cotton_."

She gasps, "From _Eastenders_?"

The pair share a laugh as he nods, Liz berating herself for never having realised before, "I am such an idiot. I have known you for, what, four years? And I never worked that out!"

"It is a stupid name, really," Dot shakes his head, "Nige came up with it."

Liz suddenly stops laughing, perhaps a little too dramatically, at that. It seemed less funny knowing Nigel Morton had been the one to come up with it. Dot continues laughing at her reaction.

"Here, let me take your bowl," Dot offers as he stands, seeing she has finished.

She thanks him as he takes it, walking over to his kitchen sink.

"There's seconds here if you fancy," he calls out.

Liz turns over the back of the sofa to look at him, smiling, "Any more and I won't get off this sofa."

The pair chuckle again, though it soon dies out, leaving the two staring at each other. A realisation of her insinuation falling heavily over them.

And the realisation they were both tempted by the idea.

Liz clears her throat quietly, breaking them both out of it, "May I use your bathroom?"

"Of course, second door on the left," Dot says, turning away to put the dishes in the sink.

Liz follows his directions to the bathroom, closing the door gently behind her. She did not necessarily need to go, but wanted a moment to recollect herself after whatever that was.

She was unsure of Dot's intent inviting her here this evening. Just like with the coffee, it was possible it was something more than just two colleagues hanging out during and after work. But that would be ridiculous. What did 'more' even mean?

It is likely he just wanted to make her feel better, knowing how stressed she was with work and Denton and Steve and other things she had not yet told him about.

But it was nice. _Really_ nice. She enjoyed his company, and it seemed he enjoyed hers. Hastings was busy with Superintendent duties and Roisin, Kate was undercover or otherwise with Mark and Josh, and Steve had the Waldron case, Denton's trial and Sam to worry about. So why shouldn't she make a new friend? It is only natural that herself and Dot will grow closer as the only two members of the team without other commitments beside work.

So what would be so wrong with it? What scares her so much about it? What even is 'it'?

Just some coffee and some chilli, that's all 'it' is, she tells herself.

Leaving the bathroom, Liz returns to the living space where Dot has returned to the sofa. He is sitting with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped under his chin as his phone rings on the table. It is faced downward, so she cannot see the caller ID - but he seems to be purposely ignoring it. His demeanour has completely changed. It is no longer light-hearted, but darkened.

He looks up at her as she sits beside him, a friendly smile appearing on his face. She smiles back, gesturing to his phone with her head, "Feel free to answer. Don't ignore it on my account."

Dot's smile falls a little as he also looks at the phone, but it soon recovers, "No, you're my guest and my priority."

Liz's smile widens, feeling her cheeks heat as they, once again, look at each other.

He's studying her. Admiring the way her red hair frames her face, some unruly strands brushing against her rosy cheeks. And she's studying him. Admiring the way his small smile brightens his brown eyes, a cheerful glint in them as he looks down at her.

The silence is comfortable. _Alarmingly_ comfortable, Liz realises.

Her face feels warm.

Her stomach drops.

_Oh._

"I should probably go," Liz hears herself say, slightly panicked. The air in the room begins to feel less thick as her words cut through it. She immediately regrets it when she sees Dot's face fall.

"Yeah, yeah of course," Dot nods, though there is a hint of disappointment in his expertly crafted charming tone, "You should be getting back. Your cat and all."

Liz feels her throat dry. If not because of his casual comment, him not knowing the truth, then out of disappointment at the night ending.

"I can drop you back?" Dot says as they stand, Liz grabbing her jacket and bag from beside the sofa.

Liz hesitates responding, part of her wanting to stay. She does not want to go back. Not now. Not with everything that is happening. It feels her with dread.

She has enjoyed herself thoroughly this evening. For the most part, she was able to forget all the bullshit going on around her. Even if she had spoken to Steve about her situation, she would still have to face all the conflict surrounding him and Denton's trial. But here, with Dot, away from work, she could just be herself with nothing on her shoulders. That was refreshing.

Maybe she should tell Dot about what was going on. He could help her, in some sort of way. Or at least offer her company. He had already offered to listen. So just take it. Lizzie's job was to listen to others' problems, why shouldn't she have someone listen to her?

No. She didn't just want to talk to _someone_. Liz wanted to talk to Steve. He was her best friend, no matter what was going on. She trusted him enough to tell him the truth. Dot had been kind, yes. But she didn't know him. Not really. At least, not yet. She would like to though. The coffee and tonight was a start. Liz doubted she would ever know someone as well as she knew Steve, or if she would ever allow anyone to know _her_ as well as _he_ did. But maybe Dot was someone she could trust, someday. He had not given her any real reason not to so far.

"Thank you for the food," Liz says, "I'll walk back. I only live a few minutes away."

Dot seems unsure, but nods, "Send me a text when you're there."

Liz smiles at that, grateful, "See you tomorrow. And really, thank you."

He catches on to the sincerity in her voice, realising she means for more than just the food. Knowing she was not yet ready to talk about whatever was going on, he took the time to distract her and show kindness. Just for a few hours Liz could take her mind off of her burdens.

Dot smiles, waving her off dismissively as they reach his flat door, "Don't mention it."

* * *

In the office the next morning, Liz sees Steve standing by Maneet's desk. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she makes her way over, smiling politely when the pair turn to her as she approaches.

Liz feels a lot more confident than she did yesterday, feeling refreshed after a few hours where her mind wasn't plagued with overthinking his actions or what her next ones should be. After her evening at Dot's, she had found herself able to sleep. While they had not talked about what was on her mind, the few hours of pleasant conversation about everything and anything else made her feel better. She was sure after admitting everything to Steve, it would be even better. So, Liz came into the office optimistic.

She meets Steve's eyes, making a point of smiling wider at him, to let him know things were alright between them. It had been two days since they last spoke. That may not seem like long to many, but the pair saw each other practically every day.

"What have you found?" Liz asks, assuming the reason Steve is at Maneet's desk would be because of new evidence in the Waldron case.

Maneet turns to her computer, gesturing to the image of the boy's sports club viewed on the screen, "It's from a boys home called Sands View. Danny Waldron's mum died when he was eleven, so he moved up north to live with his dad and step-mum. That didn't work out so he was taken into care."

She zooms into a particular boy in the image, presumably Danny, "He was there between the ages of thirteen and seventeen."

"I keep going through the file," Steve explains, "There's no link between Danny Waldron and Ronan Murphy while Danny was a police officer."

"So the only link must be this boys home?" Liz asks, Steve nodding. He seems a little timid, unsure how she feels towards him. So she smiles again, hoping that does the trick. His shoulders ease up a little.

"Unfortunately, I can't get a hold of any records of that period," Maneet says, sadly, "One council department told me they were lost in a fire, another told me they went missing during an office move."

Liz frowns. That was suspicious.

"No one knows," Maneet continues, "The lads were kicked out at seventeen and pretty much left to fend for themselves with no follow up. However, I've cross checked with individuals known to the criminal justice system and I do have a name for you."

Liz beams, proud of Maneet. She was proving herself to be a more than valuable member of this department, and she could see Steve was impressed too.

"Same age as Danny, so chances are they were there at the same time."

"Good work," Steve praises, "Send it all my way and I'll pay him a visit."

"Yes, Sarge," Maneet says, turning back to her computer.

"Steve, can I talk to you?" Liz asks, hesitantly.

Steve nods, eyes widening slightly in surprise. He clearly had not been expecting her to acknowledge him today, let alone ask to speak with him.

"In private," she prompts, beginning to walk away.

They walk in silence, passing the desks as they head for her office.

As the pair pass Dot, the man stands and starts to follow beside Liz. He puts a gentle hand on her upper arm to catch her attention. She slows her pace, turning to smile at him, "Hey."

"Hey," he grins, eyes flicking briefly to Steve who is following behind them. They come to a stop outside her office, Dot holding out something for her, "You seemed to like it, so I saved you some."

Liz looks down to what he is holding in his hands. It is a tupperware box full of leftover chilli from last night. She grins up at him, taking it.

"Stops it going to waste," Dot shrugs, evidently bashful about the gesture but nevertheless charming.

"Thank you," Liz says, delighted. It was thoughtful.

Dot nods, smiling, "Pleasure."

Liz watches as he walks away, passing Steve. She rolls her eyes as she sees him send a glare Dot's way. His brow is furrowed, in typical Arnott-fashion, when he turns back to her.

Ignoring him, she moves aside and gestures for Steve to come into her office.

He just stands there, fists clenched, "Is that what you wanted to tell me about?"

"What?"

He turns back to send a glare in the direction Dot went, then looks pointedly to the tupperware in her hands, "That."

Liz sighs, tiredly, "If there was anything to tell you about ' _that'_ , I would-"

Suddenly, Steve turns and stalks away, muttering something about being 'busy'.

She stands there for a moment, bewildered, watching as he disappears around the corner.

Soon Liz feels her blood begin to boil. Throwing the tupperware of chilli carelessly onto the chair in her office, she strides determinedly in the direction Steve went. Rounding the corner, she sees him wait by the lift, his hands in his pockets as he stares fixated at the small light around the hailing button.

"What's your problem?" she demands, though she has an idea.

"What do you mean?" he responds, quietly and refusing to look at her. He taps his foot impatiently as he waits for the lift to arrive.

Liz steps forward, making sure she is in his eyeline, "Don't act like an arse. You're the one who just stormed off like a child. Now, what is this all about?"

Steve huffs, finally moving his eyes to look at her, fighting back the wince he feels when he notes her angered scowl, "You tell me."

She waits a moment for her blood to cool before she responds, not bothering to play around what was clearly lingering over them, "Is this about me and Dot?"

"Didn't know there was a 'you and Dot'," he spits.

"There isn't," she insists, infuriated.

"Then what was that?" Steve says through grit teeth, gesturing his head back to the office where Dot would be somewhere.

Liz stays quiet, attempting to bite her tongue. She fails.

"You're such a hypocrite," she growls.

His mouth falls open slightly in surprise but Steve's brow remains deeply furrowed.

She continues, tipped over the edge but his audacity to look offended, "I don't get it. I just don't. Why do you get to go running around sticking your dick in anything that moves without any consideration of the consequences but as soon as I even look in the direction of another man you do this? Whatever the hell _this_ is?"

Steve flinches as she waves her arms in front of him.

"I don't owe _you_ any sort of explanation," she continues, her arms now folding as Liz strains to keep her voice level to avoid the prying ears of the office, "Especially not after all the shit you've pulled."

He glares back at her, Liz immediately regretting the words that fell out of her mouth.

"You think I did it?"

Her heart almost breaks at the dejection in his tone - it would fully shatter if she were not so angry with him.

"You think I slept with Lindsay?"

She swallows, it now being her turn to avoid _his_ eye. Liz closes her eyes briefly as she inhales, attempting to calm herself.

"Honestly?" she asks, Steve looking at her with a mix of desperation and distress, "I don't know what to think."

Just then, the lift dings, the doors opening to welcome Steve in.

The pair just look at each other, sadly.

They never fight like that. Never.

So what happens now?

Liz goes to say something - anything that will rectify the forlornness on his face. Before she can, Steve drops his gaze from her and silently sulks into the lift, the door closing behind him.

She looks after him, hoping he will turn around so she can express whatever she was feeling in a glimpse before the doors fully close. He doesn't.

As the lift descends, Liz feels her stomach drop too. Her throat feels dry and tight.

Immediately heading back for her office, Liz considers whatever the hell just happened and however the heck she was feeling.

She was mad, yes. Steve was being a hypocrite. And he deserved to be called out for it. Liz hadn't lied.

Sure, he had Sam now, but Steve had a terrible history with women and sleeping around. More often than not, it would have disastrous consequences for not only himself but others too. The accusations from Denton were the pinnacle of that. So how could Steve deny it? Of course, she was mad at Steve for that.

Ok, he was her friend and wanted to look out for her, but Steve acted like a jealous arsehole sometimes. Not that he _was_ jealous, he had no real reason to be. He wasn't her father, or her guardian and certainly not her boyfriend. So what did it matter to him what other men she spoke to or decided to spend her time with? Of course, she was mad at Steve for that too.

Alright, he understands her better than most people, but Steve seemed to love making decisions for her. He assures her he believes in her, that he does not doubt her ability when it comes to reading people, so why does he always seem to doubt and question her choices? Of course, she was also mad at Steve for that.

Obviously, he doesn't like the man very much, but Steve doesn't even know what happened between her and Dot. It was only dinner and friendly conversation. It wasn't even _anything_. And it likely never would be. So why was it any of his business to judge Dot for her? Of course, again, she was mad at Steve for that.

He had done this with Hurrell, and he was doing it now with Dot. Why? It made no sense. Admittedly, she was a little jealous when she learnt of his relationships (if you can even call them that) over the last few years - how could she not be when it meant she spent less time with her friend? But he was being an arse.

What right does he have?

Yes, despite the small, guilty tugs at her heart, she was mad at Steve Arnott.

Stepping into her office, she slams the door behind her and lowers the blind, finally dropping into her seat, exhausted.

All she had wanted was to finally open up to Steve about what had been going on with her. To finally confide in him. To ask for help.

But he blew it.

And for what?

Liz feels a headache begin to form between her brow. Grinding her knuckle into it, in an attempt to relieve the pain, she leans her elbows onto her desk.

She feels her phone vibrate on the further side of the desk. Taking a deep breath to will away the tiresome tears threatening to fall, Liz reaches for it, seeing a new text message.

_Matthew Cottan: You OK?_

That tips her over the edge. She cries.

* * *

The next day, she lifts her head at a knock on her office door.

Her polite smile dissipates when she sees him standing in her doorway. Liz looks back down to her work.

"I spoke with Joe Nash," Steve begins, to her dismay, "one of the men who was at Sands View at the same time as Danny. Said that-"

"What has that got to do with me?" she asks, bitterly, not raising her head from her work.

Steve's mouth gapes, his confidence and hopes they could just move on deflating, "Well, I thought you would want to know seeing as you helped identify-"

"I told you, Maneet did all the work," she says, dryly, "She is an officer. I am just a counsellor."

"I just-"

"Steve, unless you want to schedule an appointment or raise concerns about someone in the workplace, I have a dozen client reports to type p before Denton's trial reconvenes at 14:00," she bites, finally looking up at him. He winces at her dark eyes, "So, if you wouldn't mind shutting the door on your way out."

Liz looks back down to her work. Steve hesitates, taken back by her harsh tone. But, sheepishly, he does as she says.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't think I would get so many chapters out this week, but I really do love writing this fic! Hope you are all enjoying my take on season three and appreciating that things are beginning to get juicyyyy! I did warn you all this was going to be the slowest burn to ever burn. Comments and reviews make me so happy, and I am the world's worst self-destructor so any affirmations or feedback is very, very welcome!

"Ms Denton, you remain under oath," the judge informs.

"Thank you, My Lady," the woman replies, timid.

Liz sighs as she sits in the crowd. _Here we go again…_

"Ms Denton," the prosecutor begins, "in your examination in chief by your own counsel, you made a number of references to an undercover operation underseen by Detective Sergeant Arnott of Anti-corruption Unit 12."

"Yes, I did."

"Did any of these operations involve Detective Sergeant Arnott being present at your home?"

"Some did," Denton nods.

"You were alone with Detective Sergeant Arnott?"

"Sometimes."

"And on all these occasions there were no other police officers in the vicinity?"

"There was a constable stationed outside the house."

"Where outside?"

"On the doorstep."

"And where did sexual relations take place?"

"In the bedroom," Lindsay insists. Liz winces.

"And how was the bedroom accessed?"

"Via the stairs."

"And how far do the stairs lie from the front door?" Ebele questions, Liz beginning to catch on to where this line of inquiry was headed.

"I don't know," Lindsay shakes her head, "Three or four metres."

"From the plans of your home obtained by the prosecution," the lawyer says, flipping through some documents, "the distance is 2.7 metres."

"If you say so," Denton challenges.

"I don't say so. It's a fact. And if I am inaccurate I'll be corrected."

Liz does her best to stop from smirking as Denton's face falls.

"There are written statements written by all the officers stationed outside the door in early October," Ebele continues, "and not one recalls hearing you and Detective Sergeant Arnott go upstairs together."

"Well, that doesn't surprise me," Denton says.

"It doesn't surprise you that trained police officers on guard duty in a high state of vigilance don't hear the two of you go upstairs for sex when he or she were less than three metres away?"

"We were discreet," Lindsay insists, Liz covering her scoff with a small clearing of her throat. She can see Hastings shake his head beside her, clearly as tired with the woman as she was.

Ebele hums, "You've told the jury that this intimacy with Detective Sergeant Arnott won your trust and therefore you permitted him unsupervised access to your home."

"There were times I was napping or in the shower and he was free to roam the premises," Denton nods, "I trusted him, completely."

"And you have alleged that on one of these occasions, Detective Sergeant Arnott planted a sum of money in your late mother's overnight case," the prosecutor states, "Did you witness Detective Sergeant Arnott bringing £50,000 into your home?"

"Nope," Lindsay shakes her head, looking flustered. She clearly had not expected these questions, so was unrehearsed - Liz thinks, bitterly.

"Did you ever witness Detective Sergeant Arnott having access to tens of thousands of pounds in cash?"

"He'd hardly do it openly," Denton scoffs, coming undone, "Corrupt officers have access to criminal contacts-"

"Please answer the question you've been asked," the Judge scolds.

Lindsay huffs, straightening the sleeve of her suit jacket.

Ebele repeats, patronisingly pushing for an answer the woman clearly did not have planned, "Did you witness Detective Sergeant Arnott with such an enormous sum of cash?"

"I don't know how Steve Arnott got hold of the money and then got it into my house-"

"Ms Denton, you've answered-"

"And I'm still answering. If I'm inaccurate, I'll be corrected," Lindsay bites, mocking the words the prosecutor had used on her earlier.

Liz studies Denton's face as she glares at the lawyer, that threatening gleam in her eye once again.

She was no longer playing the timid victim she so desperately wanted to portray.

Her façade had slipped.

This is who she was. This is the Lindsay Denton that Liz recognises.

Cruel.

"The nerve of that one," Hastings leans over and whispers in her ear.

Liz hums, her attention brought back to the woman when she begins again.

"Steve Arnott had my complete trust and the trust of the officers on guard duty. He could easily have picked his moment to plant the money and I firmly believe that that is the best explanation for how it came to be there because I had never seen that money before," Denton practically shouts at the court.

There is a tense silence that follows. Liz only hopes the jury are contemplating the sudden change in her demeanour and tone, realising there were two-sides to the woman that stood before them.

"Were you aware that you were under investigation by Anti-Corruption Unit 12?"

"Yes, I was," Denton spits as she reaches for a sip of water. Liz wonders if she regrets her loss of focus.

"And were you cooperating with that investigation?"

"Yes, I was."

"You had been completely honest to the best of your knowledge in assisting them with their enquiries?"

"Yes, I was," Denton says, once again growing increasingly, visibly frustrated.

"And had you always been completely honest with Anti-Corruption Unit 12?"

Lindsay hesitates. Her mouth opens and closes as she struggles for something appropriate to say.

Liz can practically feel the smirk radiating off the older man beside her.

She couldn't wait to see how the woman would try to worm her way out of this one.

"Please answer, Ms Denton," the Judge pushes.

Lindsay sighs, "It was a complex case and there were many details that were elusive and at times required further thought and examination before I could give a definitive answer."

Liz almost wants to laugh.

"Did you lie in relation to matters surrounding the conspiracy to murder Tommy Hunter?"

Denton pauses again, biting her lip as she struggles to no doubt calculates her next move.

"Ms Denton," the Judge warns, again.

"As I said, it was a complex case and many details were difficult to refine or recollect," Denton swallows.

"Did you lie about having prior knowledge of Hunter?"

"No."

Liz hears Hastings let out a breath beside her.

"You lied about having prior knowledge of Hunter, didn't you?"

"No."

"You told the investigators lie after lie to confound them and to pervert the course of justice, didn't you?"

"It wasn't like that," Denton pleads to the jury.

"It _was_ like that," Ebele insists, coolly, "You wove a web of deceit to confound the investigators and to protect yourself? And you've the affrontery to attempt to deceive this jury."

"No," Denton shouts, panicking.

"Did you fabricate the relations between yourself and Detective Sergeant Arnott?"

"No."

"Did you fabricate the planting of evidence against you?"

"No."

"Lindsay Denton, aren't you an artful, devious person who has betrayed the trust placed in her as a police officer-?"

"-No!-"

"-And haven't you repeatedly and shamelessly aimed to obstruct those who would bring you justice-?"

"No, I haven't!" Denton screeches, baring her teeth like an animal.

Another hushed silence falls over the room.

 _There she is_ , Liz thinks.

The court proceedings moved swiftly after that, with Denton escorted back behind her bar and a few more witnesses called to testify. But Liz isn't listening. She doesn't need to.

Sat here now, having seen that woman lose control of herself and revealing to the court of who she truly is, all Liz can think about is one thing.

Steve Arnott.

She owes him an apology.

* * *

Liz needs to talk to him, to clear the air after their fight. Not that she did not stand by the fact she had every right to be mad at him - she definitely did. And she still would be for a while.

But she trusts him.

To believe Denton, with all her threats and lies, would be to trust _her_ over him. That was something Liz could never do. Not after everything.

It is rather embarrassing, when Liz thinks about it. She should have known it was a set-up, that Denton was lying - once again, twisting the truth and fabricating events to manipulate them. Liz should have listened to him, like her job requires her to do. No matter how she feels towards him, despite how angry she may be at him for whatever reason, she was supposed to be there - professionally and as his friend.

They could get past this, whatever it was. They always did.

Just because Steve would rather bottle things up and let things lie, didn't mean she would have to.

So, she needed to find him. To talk things through.

Walking past the many desks in the office, Liz heads for Steve's desk, hoping to catch him at work. Just as the other morning, he is nowhere to be seen.

"Looking for Arnott again?" a familiar voice beams beside her.

Liz turns to smile at Dot, who leans back casually in his own desk chair, looking at her.

"You know, one day you'll be coming in here looking for me," the man smirks, causing Liz to shake her head, amused.

His phone begins to ring, him picking it up, cheerily, "DI Cottan."

He listens for a moment, then looks over to Liz who raises a brow at him, questioningly.

"One sec," he says to the caller, holding the phone out and pressing the speakerphone button, "Ok go ahead."

"I've been bumped off the op," Liz hears the voice say, immediately recognising it to be Kate, "Too close to Baines."

"What's happening?" Liz asks, assuming as she was being let in on the call, she was being let in on the situation.

"Jackie Brickford came in this morning," Dot explains, to Liz's surprise, "Said Danny was getting them to cover and Hari Baines was the one to shoot him, also blackmailing them to cover."

"There's physical evidence someone else may have been involved in Rod's death," Kate continues.

"I thought he committed suicide," Liz asks.

"That's what it looked like, but the post-mortem and forensics suggest otherwise," Kate responds.

"Only minor evidence, though," Dot argues, "Nothing too strong."

"Steve thinks Hari may have had something to do with it," Kate's voice explains, quietly as to not be caught. Liz assumes she is still at South Ferry Station," If he killed Danny, killing Rod wouldn't be a stretch."

"Hari's car was spotted on CCTV less than half a mile away from where Rod was found on the night he died," Dot reveals.

"Do we know where he is now?"

Kate answers her, "South Ferry's AFOs are operating, heading to his home now. Steve should be there. I've been kicked off."

"Christ," Liz mutters, "Are you ok, Kate?"

She can hear Kate sigh down the phone, "Yeah, just frustrated. I need to be in on this, Dot. Can you make a call?"

"No, this is too dangerous," Dot immediately asserts. Liz feels relieved he is looking out for her, worried also for her friend, "I want you out of there."

"For Christ's sake, Dot," Kate sneers down the phone.

"Sorry, Kate," Dot says, hanging up the phone before she can protest more.

"You know she is just going to head over there anyway, right?" Liz says, folding her arms and chewing her lip out of worry for her friend.

"I know," Dot chuckles, humourless, "And I should be going too."

She watches as he stands from his desk, grabbing his jacket and keys.

"Be careful," she pleads, watching him turn to her and smirk.

He doesn't reply, just winks before heading in the direction of the stairwell.

* * *

"What is it?"

Hastings looks up from the phone to Liz who is mouthing at him from the doorway of his office. She must have seen him on the phone, stressed.

He holds up a hand to her, concentrating on the voice at the other end giving him the details of the latest development, "Ok, thank you. I'll be right there."

He hangs up, placing the phone back on its holder and immediately standing to reach for his coat and hat.

"What's happening?" Liz says, concerned and out loud now he is not on a call.

Hastings sighs, moving around his desk as he hurriedly puts on his jacket, "Come with me."

She follows behind him as he strides from his office, grabbing her own jacket as they pass her office.

Ted knows she will want to be there. He will tell her on the way.

* * *

"When I got here, Baines jumped me," Dot explains to the two other AC-12 officers, "He was going to string me up the same way he did Rod Kennedy."

Kate hums, Steve nodding. They had found Hari Baines in the warehouse where Rod had been discovered a few days prior. There, Dot was already waiting for them with Hari detained but a brutal bruise forming on his jaw. They had clearly fought. Steve swiftly arrested Baines, himself and Kate then discovering the noose he had clearly planned to use on their colleague.

A car pulls up beside the three officers as they discuss the happenings of the afternoon. Hastings appears first, straightening the cap on his head before making his way over to them. Steve sighs as Liz appears next, her eyes searching frantically in the crowd before landing on them. She moves hastily with the Superintendent to stand beside them.

Sharing a smile with Kate, relieved to see her friend is well after almost a month undercover, Liz meets eyes with Steve. The man looks away, clearly unsure where they stood with each other. It seemed he had felt that way for quite some time now. Her heart aches a little, hoping they will have the chance to talk soon. But for now, especially surrounded by all this chaos about the case, it would have to wait.

"How are you, Cottan?" Hastings asks as they reach them.

Liz turns to the taller man, noticing the swelling on his jawline for the first time. Her eyes widen in concern, but Dot calms her with a characteristically charismatic grin, "Not too bad, sir."

"Glad to hear it."

"I shouldn't have gone in without backup, sir," Dot laments, "I just didn't want him to get away."

Hastings waves a dismissive hand, "Nobody's going to question your judgement. You did a grand job, son."

Liz watches with a small smile, endeared by the way Hastings pats Dot on the arm encouragingly.

"Now, I need to speak with these two," Hastings says, gesturing to Kate and Steve, "So why don't you get yourself off to the hospital?"

"Cheers, guv," Dot thanks as the older man and two officers begin to walk away.

"You ok, Dot?" Liz asks, concern flooding her voice as the others leave the two of them standing together.

He looks down at her, charmed, "Yeah, I'll live."

"May I?" she says, reaching a tentative hand to hover by the side of his face.

Dot nods, removing his hand where the cloth had obscured the extent of the bruising. Liz winces through grit teeth as she studies the beaten flesh and bone.

She slowly reaches her hand over, to gently graze the wound. Dot hisses slightly as her fingers make contact, causing her to quickly retract. She twists her mouth, thoughtfully, before moving past him to one of the ambulances.

Steve, who stands by one of the cars, has been watching the interaction as Hastings bleats on about paperwork and procedure and such. He looks on as Liz returns to the taller man with an ice pack in her hand, lifting it cautiously to his face. Tenderly, as only Liz could, she places it against his jaw, stretching gracefully onto her tiptoes to reach the man's face. Dot looks down at her, a recognisable sentiment in his eye - Steve knows it well. The man slowly reaches his own hand up, placing his palm over her gentle fingers, clearly revelling in her touch under the guise he was simply holding the pack in place. The pair gaze at each other.

His chest hurts.

He has to look away.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Liz asks as she removes her hand from underneath his and places her feet firmly back on the ground, Dot fully taking the pack from her now, "In the ambulance?"

He shakes his head, pressing the ice pack a little firmer against his jaw, "I'll be fine. It's just a bruise."

"Well," Liz says, uncertain as her eyes are unable to look away from his battered face, "make sure you call me as soon as you're fixed up."

Dot nods, smiling softly.

Liz smiles back up at him, her cheeks heating under his warm, gentle gaze.

After watching him turn to approach the back of the ambulance waiting for him, Liz makes her way back over to the cars where Hastings, Kate and Steve - who seems to be glaring at her, again - are waiting.

She avoids his gaze, unsure why the man, after days of no communication, was sending her such a heated look.

Kate, who seems to have noticed Steve's indignant demeanour too, raises an inquisitive brow at her, to which Liz just shrugs. Honestly, she didn't know what was running through his head - and didn't want to.

Focussed on keeping her gaze from meeting the man beside her, she turns back to watch as the ambulance Dot had gotten into drives away.

She can still feel Steve's eyes on her, burning holes into the back of her head. An ache begins to form there.

Liz's blood begins to boil again, as it had done a few days ago. She can only assume Steve had been watching them both. That he was thinking whatever he was thinking the other day when he berated her.

That was why she was mad at him. Why she still is.

In the middle of _all_ this, of _all_ that was going on, he still made a point of making her feel bad. And for what? Why? What exactly had she done wrong?

Maybe he didn't deserve her sympathies or forgiveness just yet.

Liz turns back, seeing Kate flick her eyes between the two of them, eventually rolling them in exasperation.

The tense silence is only filled by Hastings, who had been conversing with another officer, moving over to congratulate them, "Well done, again, for detaining Baines. This is big for us."

"Thanks, sir," Kate and Steve respond, though she holds more of a smile.

"Maybe we should go for a drink to celebrate?" Ted suggests, Liz almost grinning at his hopeful tone.

Kate sighs, putting her hands in her vest jacket, "Sorry, sir. But Denton's verdict is announced tomorrow…"

Liz watches as Kate fixes Steve with a pointed glance, to which the man takes a small step back.

Hastings catches onto her meaning, humming disappointedly, "Aye, suppose we had better get our rest and pray for the best. Save the drinks for after the hearing, eh?"

"Yes, sir," Kate and Steve reply.

"Go on, see you tomorrow," Hastings says as he goes to walk away, "Coming Beth?"

"I'll just stick with Kate, but thanks," Liz smiles at the older man as he waves them goodbye, leaving in his car.

Turning back to the group, Liz sees that Steve has already walked away, opening the door to his own car and stepping in without a goodbye. She hears Kate huff, frustrated, beside her and can only nod her head in agreement. What was going on with him?

"Fancy a drink?"

Liz snaps her head to the woman beside her, brows rising in surprise, "What? I thought you said about Denton's-"

Kate chuckles, "Whatever, I deserve one. And besides, we have a lot to catch up on."

Liz blanches under Kate's expectant, suggestive expression, "Like what?"

Kate rolls her eyes again, though her humoured grin remains, "Lie whatever is happening between you and Steve. And whatever is happening between you and _Dot Cottan_."

Liz shakes her head, willing the blush blooming on her cheeks to cool, "Nothing is happening with me and Dot."

Kate just mockingly turns her lips downward, nodding her head, unconvinced.

Liz cannot help but laugh, amazed by the woman's brashness - and also a little embarrassed.

"Come on," Kate says, wrapping an arm around her friend and laughing too, "Let's get us a drink."

Liz smiles. While she feels bad they were purposely excluding Steve, she could not help the surge of relief that Kate had also noticed the tension and had done her best to step in and diffuse it. He was being a dick. And she was being a good friend.

"Missed you, Fleming," Liz beams.

"And you, Thornton."

* * *

"Jury's coming back," Gill says to him as she passes in the courthouse lobby, "You're free to come in if you want."

Steve shakes his head, "I'll wait here."

He watches as Gill and several other people re-enter the courtroom, letting out a shakily anxious breath when he finds himself alone.

 _If only Liz was here_ , he thinks.

* * *

"A search of Hari Baines' home found a cache of mobile phones. All of the unregistered pay as you go variety," Kate explains to Hastings and Liz who are sitting beside her at the desk, "Finding these phones allowed us to examine their call history. Hari Baines received a call the night before going to Inspector McAndrew and volunteering to stay on Danny's squad."

"And who was the call from?" the Superintendent asks.

"Unfortunately, it was also an unregistered pay as you go phone and said phone is no longer in history," Kate sighs, disappointedly, "Same MO as the recent texts Baines received telling him to sit tight. Three days later there's another call from the same number, that was the night before Baines murdered Danny Waldron."

"You think they're connected?" Liz asks now.

"Well, if they are, it means somebody's been pulling the strings. Someone who ordered Danny's murder-"

"Well done, Dot," Kate is cut off as a woman cheers from the other side of the office, a round of applause beginning to resound in the room.

The three look over, seeing Dot Cottan stride back into the room, waving humbly as he passes the clapping desks.

Liz immediately stands, making her way over to his desk where they meet each other. He beams at her, Liz sending him a relieved and cheerful grin back.

"How are you feeling?" she shouts over the continued clapping.

"A lot better now," he says, pointedly gleaming at her. She blushes, her grin widening.

Hastings moves to stand beside her, taking the man's hand in a shake, "Welcome back, son."

"Thanks, gaffer," the taller man smiles.

"Great work, sir," Kate now congratulates, also offering her hand for a shake.

"Cheers," Dot says as he takes it.

He turns back to look down at Liz as the applauding begins to die down.

She is studying the now smaller, less brutal bruise on his jawline. Her brow is creased slightly as Liz remembers how painful it had looked yesterday, but it soon eases into another smile when she realises how much better it looked after cleaning and a couple of stitches. The swelling had gone down, immensely, the man now finding it easier to grin down at her, that signature smirk back on his face.

He moves a step closer to her, lowering his voice as everyone makes their way back to their respective desks around them, "Maybe we should get a drink sometime. Celebrate good health and all that."

Liz hesitates, though allows herself to smile, "That would be-"

" _Shit._ "

Liz's attention is pulled away by Kate cursing beside her. The woman is looking at her phone, her eyes darkening.

"What?" Liz asks, worried, "What is it?"

Her stomach jolts as Hastings' face falls when Kate shows him whatever message she has just assumes it has something to do with the Denton hearing today. Do they have a verdict?

She hopes not, with that reaction.

"Is it Steve?" Liz hears herself asking, instinctively.

Kate looks up at her, eyes solemn as she turns the phone to face her.

Liz reads the message.

_Steve: Bail granted. She's out._


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make me happy and keep me going! Hope you all enjoy this and the complexities of these characters I am trying to portray. It is easy to see on screen, but a whole other game in writing, especially with my own character thrown into the mix!

She was here. She was in the office.

Liz's head snaps up from where she sits beside Kate at the woman's desk as the lift doors open, revealing none other than Lindsay Denton.

She hears Kate practically growl as the woman smugly strides through the office, making her way over to where Hastings and Gill are standing by a meeting room. The room watches as she shakes the legal advisor's hand, Hastings not offering her the same courtesy. The three disappear into the meeting room, the office once again feeling as though it can breathe.

"What is she doing here?" Dot spits as he comes to stand behind them at Kate's desk, all still staring at the room, wondering what was being said.

"Some new initiative called 'Truth and Reconciliation'," Liz explains, a hint of mocking to her voice as she uses air quotes, the same way Hastings had done when he told her of the arrangement, "Following cases of ' _miscarriage of justice'_ parties are invited to engage in dialogue to initiate the ' _process of healing'_."

"And Hastings has to take the full brunt of it?" Kate asks, incredulously.

Liz hums, sadly. She knows he can take it. He was a stubborn old man. But she would not want to be stuck in a room with that woman (and, quite honestly, Gill Biggeloe too) for more than a minute more than they had suffered already.

This was supposed to be over. Seems it was far from it.

Just then, the meeting room door opens, each officer sitting a little straighter as the Superintendent appears.

"God give me strength," he seems to mutter before lifting his head and looking over to where they sat, "Kate, Arnott."

Kate sighs as she stands, heading over to him.

Steve, a little flustered by the fact Hastings had once again referred to him by his surname - something Liz pointed out before he only did when he was angry - also stands from his desk, rolling up his sleeves to distract his nervous hands. Yes, he was anxious to confront Denton again. How could he not be? After all, this was mostly his own fault.

Feeling his throat begin to dry, he instinctively looks over to Lizzie, hoping she sends him some sort of encouraging look like she usually would, even despite their current _situation_. Instead, his chest aches as she only catches his eye for a second, feeling her sympathy for just a moment before Dot places a hand on her arm, gesturing for her to join him as he pulls up a spare chair at his desk. She follows without another look in his direction. His chest burns - again. He has pushed her away. Snapping his head to Hastings as he passes the older man, who sends him a tired but irritated glare, Steve inhales deeply before stepping into the room.

Of course, Liz feels sympathy for him. She feels it for anyone forced to be in that room with her. Her heart lurched when she saw the remorseful glance Steve had sent her way before disappearing into the room. But he has done this to himself. He needs to learn to deal with it. To face up to the consequences. She was tired of picking up the pieces after him.

If he has done something, as Lindsay accuses him of, then he needs to own up and sort it. If not, with any luck, this could all be ended with one final meeting. If Steve has been and is honest, this could all be over with. Denton would have nothing over them and, hopefully, they could put it behind them.

Sitting beside Dot at his desk, Liz taps her foot anxiously as she waits to hear something from the room. Dot tries to distract her with some forms, asking her to help him complete his admin as she has the spare time. It didn't work. Liz wants to know what is happening? Is Denton playing another game or finally letting them go? Why had _she_ not been called into the room, after everything Denton accused her of? Lindsay had even made a point of glaring at her during the court case the other week, so why was she now being excluded?

After a few minutes, which felt to Liz like a lifetime, she turns eagerly as she hears the door to the meeting room open. Kate emerges, a sour look on her face as she storms over to her desk. Liz scoots the chair she is on toward her, looking up to the woman with a questioning brow.

_What had happened?_

Kate fixes her with a look. It tells her all she needs to know. It confirms what she was dreading.

Denton was still playing the strings. She had something incriminating on Steve.

Liz curses under her breath, rubbing her forehead disappointedly in an attempt to ease the ache growing there. Kate throws her pen onto the desk, slumping into her chair.

Was Lindsay telling the truth? Was Steve really that stupid?

A moment later, it is Denton who leaves the room next. She pauses after slamming the door behind her, Liz watching as she lets out a breath, a satisfied smirk appearing on her otherwise weary features.

Striding confidently to the exit, she scans the office, once again catching eyes with Liz as she had done in the courtroom. Liz sits a little straighter, unwilling to crumble under her gaze. The woman's smirk contorts into a gratified grin, as she walks into the lift and out of sight. Liz feels her stomach twist, uneasily. What was that all about?

It was obvious, really. Liz, deafened by her own irritation at the man, didn't want to hear it.

Denton was trying to turn Steve against them.

And, as far as Hastings, Dot, Kate and, now, herself too were concerned; it was working.

Freedom was not enough for a woman as emotionally unavailable and morally crooked as Lindsay Denton.

No, this was her revenge. To twist the truth. To tear them apart.

Liz would not let that happen. She would not allow her friends to play into Denton's hands. She would not allow Denton to win whatever game she was playing.

She waits for Hastings and Gill to leave the meeting room a few minutes later, the older man stalking to his office and slamming the door behind them as they discuss whatever had transpired.

Liz stands from the desk, pushing the chair back to head in the direction of the meeting room.

"Where are you going?" Dot asks, cautiously.

"To do my job."

"I think it's best if we stay out-"

"I am the assigned counsellor for this branch," she declares, proudly, "I have to listen, even if no one else will."

She moves away without another glance to Dot or Kate who watch her go, uneasily.

Approaching the meeting room, Liz sees Steve through the window. He sits in a chair, his elbows propped onto the table and his head in his hands. Liz sighs.

She just needs him to tell her the truth. She needs to know what happened. Not just for herself, but...how else can she help him?

He looks up at her, surprised when Liz enters the room. She was the last person he expected to walk through that door, if anyone. He shakes his head, rubbing between his brows with his hand.

"If you're coming in here to yell," he says, bitterly but quietly, as if tired, "Hastings beat you to it."

"I am not here to yell at you, Steve," Liz says, him flinching in surprise at how softly she says his name, "I am here to listen."

He stares at her, confused. He was sure she had been avoiding him the last few days since their argument. Well, probably since the trial last week. So why has she all of a sudden decided to 'listen' to him?

"Why?" he finds himself asking.

"Because it is my job," she offers, though he sends her an unimpressed, unconvinced glance, "Look, Hastings, Dot, Kate and the rest of the office may have made their minds up about you and all this. But I need to hear it from you, first."

He just looks at her.

She sighs, moving into the seat beside him, "I can't help if you don't tell me the truth."

"I thought you were mad at me," he raises a brow.

"Oh, I am," she admits, though exaggeratedly, "I warned you. And you still played into her hands. Now it is coming back to bite you in the arse."

Steve chuckles, humourlessly.

"But you're my friend," she confesses, willing him to believe her and open up, "I just want to help."

He continues to stare at her for a moment, disbelieving.

"What changed your mind?"

Liz tenses at his question, having hoped she would be the one to ask the difficult questions in this conversation, "I know you. And I know Denton. She plays games, she lies, she comes between us. You're just an arse."

She feels herself smile slightly as his eyes light up in bewildered amusement, then continues, "I know who I would rather trust."

He nods, gratefully, though still stays quiet.

"I need you to be honest with me," she pleads, prompting him to speak, "What has she got on you?"

Steve swallows. It had been bad enough the others working it out. But here, with Liz, it felt more shameful.

"Come on," Liz huffs, impatiently, a hint of her annoyance at him beginning to show despite her efforts, "I saw Kate's face when she walked out of here. That wasn't just any scowl, that was the one she exclusively reserves for _you_."

"A recording," he admits, mumbling. Liz strains to hear him.

"A recording of what?" Liz asks, though she dreads the answer.

He lets out a steadying breath, his eyes closing in fear of her reaction, "Of us. Me and Lindsay."

Steve's eyes snap open as he hears her huff, leaning back in her chair with an exasperated expression.

"We didn't have sex," he shouts, desperately, "We just did... _things_."

Liz gulps, shaking her head at the admission, "What _things_?"

"Does it matter?" Steve dejects, defensively and embarrassed. The tips of his ears redden in humiliation as Liz stares at him, gawking, her own cheeks heating in a blush.

"I suppose not," she shrugs, trying to rid herself of the thoughts of it.

"What really matters is you have got yourself into this mess and you need to get yourself out of it."

Her heart lurches as she sees him minutely nod, guilty. She was furious he had allowed himself to get into this position. That, despite all her warnings and advice during the Denton case, they had ended up here almost two years later. But, at least he had now been honest with her. Liz was no longer in the dark, allowing her mind to run free with the wild, out-rightly nauseating possibilities of what happened.

She wants to help. But this really was on him. He needed to learn that.

"I didn't lie to you, or the court," Steve pleads, despairingly, "I never had sex with Lindsay Denton."

Liz sits still, silently, as he looks over at her with wide, imploring eyes. It wasn't about that now. Now knowing the truth, that was something they could move past (though the ache in her stomach every time she thought about the two of them was excruciating).

"Like I said, it doesn't matter," she says, dismissively and desperate to move on. She tries not to laugh at how ridiculous that statement sounds after having spent so long angry at him for the possibility he did do it, "You have done enough for her to use it against you."

"So you believe me?"

"I know you. I believe you."

"No one else does."

"Well, unfortunately, they do _know_ you. And they no doubt know of your track record with women, especially after that shit with the nurse," she teases, glad the air in the room feels lighter at her words.

"But you know me better," he states. Liz sends him a small, encouraging smile - one he had hoped to see since the courtroom.

Steve looks as though he might cry as he breathes a deep sigh of relief and leans back in his seat, gaping at her.

Liz takes his silence as a chance to continue, knowing now was as good a time as any to be truthful, "It is that whole thing of you thinking others underestimate you, but you are then underestimating others. You should have thought about how she could manipulate that situation to her benefit. You knew what Denton was like, even then."

"I know," he says, remorsefully, "I know. I'm an idiot."

"You're an arsehole sometimes," Liz smiles, "But you're not an idiot."

Steve chuckles, this time one full of relieved humour.

He meets her gaze, eyes crinkling with gratitude, "Thank you, Lizzie."

Liz inhales. This felt right. He had been honest. She can help. They could move on. All it had taken was a conversation. Yeah, sure, there was plenty more to be said. But this was a start. It meant a lot to her. The last week of them being at odds felt like hell, she never wanted them to go through that again. He was her friend, and she was his. That overruled everything.

"Don't thank me yet," she jokes, revelling in the thankfully light hearted atmosphere that had flooded the space, "We haven't convinced anyone else you actually have brain-cells, yet."

"I have brain-cells!" he defends, mouth opening wide in mock shock.

Liz hums, sceptical, "Not in your brain. That's the problem."

The pair laugh, indulging in the feeling.

"Come on," Liz says, standing from her chair and opening the door, waiting for him to follow. She wants to talk to him more, while he is clearly ripe to open up. They had a lot to catch up on.

Steve stands, though hesitates as he rounds the table to stand in the doorway. Liz reaches for his arm, reassuringly squeezing it below his elbow. He must be nervous to leave the room, and to have the eyes of the office undoubtedly on him. He wonders how much they all know, what they thought of him.

"Let's go get a coffee?" she offers, hoping to give him a way out of facing anyone so soon.

He looks at her, relieved, smiling gratefully with a nod.

* * *

"How is Sam?" she asks as they sit in their regular booth. Liz remembers how uncomfortable the woman had been when he gave his testimony to the court last week, and how she had stormed off as soon as it was over.

Steve looks fixated at his coffee cup, beginning to pick at the cover out of nervous habit, "Not great."

Liz blanches at his honest admission. Maybe Steve really was more willing to open up now, wanting to talk to her.

"In what way?" she pushes, gently.

Steve sighs, "She's ignoring me. Won't talk to me, always out, constant excuses…"

Liz drops her gaze from him, guiltily, knowing she had done the same to him.

"I've tried reassuring her it was nothing, that Denton lied," Steve exasperates, "Besides, it was before I even knew her."

"I know, but she clearly needs time," Liz attempts, understanding the woman's confused frustration with the man, having felt it herself.

Steve grits his teeth, "It is like she doesn't really know me. The fact she even believes that woman is what hurts."

Liz feels that guilty jolt in her gut again. There were moments where _she_ had believed Denton. That was why they had been in their situation. But, as Liz reassured him, _she_ knew him better.

While Liz may not get along famously with the other woman, she can sympathise. However, that little bit of bitterness towards Sam (because of the blatant dislike she held for Liz, for whatever reason) told her he was likely right. Of course, Sam had every right to be annoyed. But, if Liz could be sitting here now, having felt the same toward Steve's antics and actually having been involved in the Denton case, why could Sam, his own girlfriend, not give him the time to explain himself and listen?

Liz had tried to ignore him, to give Steve the cold shoulder. But that tactic only worked for so long before she grew irritated at their lack of communication thus understanding and thus reconciliation. If Sam really cared about this relationship, as Liz did for her friendship with Steve, the woman would have to make some sort of move toward forgiveness.

Liz feels bad for even thinking that. But it was true.

"What do you think will happen now?" Steve asks her, apprehensively.

Liz inhales deeply, thinking about what Hastings' next move might be and what Gill is likely feeding into his ear, "Ted won't allow the suspicions of you planting evidence. We all know that is a ridiculous accusation."

Steve lets himself relax slightly at that.

"But Gill is probably pushing for some sort of suspension," Liz says, hesitantly but not wanting to lie. She sees Steve tense again, "Any sort of relations with a suspect isn't something that can be overlooked."

Steve nods, Liz finding it assuring he was admitting guilt rather than pushing it down and being stubborn like he usually would.

"And Kate?" he asks, wincing.

"Give her time too. She is probably just disappointed that you pushed her out when it was all happening instead of you working together," Liz says, truthfully, remembering when he had decided to go undercover while excluding them from his plan, "Just don't expect her to be fine with you anytime soon. That woman can be more stubborn than you, sometimes."

"Dot?"

Liz sighs as he asks about the other man. Unlike with Kate, Liz is unsure why or what Steve is even asking. Steve never cared for Dot's opinion of him. The way he raises a brow at her, prompting, reminds her of why else she was mad at him; for how he had acted seeing the two of them being… friendly. It was childish. Then again, Liz had felt that jealous over people coming close to her friend plenty of time with Steve.

But, anyway, that was something she had already pondered over enough and Liz is sure she will do it again. She pushes the rising irritation down and ignores him.

"This is what Denton wants," she responds, instead, "To push us apart. She wants you to feel alone. You're not."

Steve is taken back by her sincerity. He swallows down the growing lump in his throat as he studies her kind, honest gaze.

"Do you want my advice?" she says, taking his silence as an invitation.

He nods, prompting her to continue, "Keep your head down. Focus on Waldron and Sands View. We can deal with Denton when that is all done."

"We?" he asks, focussing on her use of the word.

"I said I want to help," Liz insists, "And we _will_ get through it. Together. Like we always do."

He nods, feeling a new surge of confidence erupt through his chest at that.

Liz takes a sip of her hot chocolate, hoping the warm liquid will calm the embarrassment pooling in her gut at her sentimentality. She did mean it, though. Liz was still frustrated at him, and likely would be for a long while to come until things start to calm. But what sort of counsellor would she be if she ignored her client when he clearly needed her? And what sort of _friend_ would she be?

"How are you, anyway?" Steve asks her, then, taking a swig of his own drink.

Liz hesitates, sudden flashes bursting in her mind of everything she had wanted to tell him about but hadn't yet. The follower, the envelope, the- all of that.

The words clog her throat, almost causing her to choke. She swallows down the nauseating words. Perhaps, now was not the time.

"Uh, good."

Liz grimaces. Surely, that made her a hypocrite. To scold Steve for not opening up and being honest. Berating him for the disastrous consequences that will come between them because of it.

But, there was a lot on his mind. It was for his own good that she didn't load his already slumped shoulders with more of her bullshit, she convinces herself. Some over time, then.

"I'm going away for a week, actually," she tells, seeing Steve looking at her expectantly after her rather blunt answer.

"Oh," Steve exclaims under his breath, "Where to?"

"Manchester," Liz explains, "I have some networking meetings. Nothing too exciting. Just some officers showing interest and wanting to see some of my research and results. But hopefully they could lead to an expansion of O.K. into that city, if all goes well."

Steve sits straighter, a smile beginning to light up his face and taking her by surprise.

"Nothing exciting?" he utters, eyes wide and crinkled from his grin, "Lizzie, that's great!"

She blushes, scoffing, "Steve-"

"No, really!" he asserts, cheerily, "When do you leave?"

"In two days," she reveals, bashfully endeared at his excitement for her.

"You're going to do great," Steve affirms.

His face suddenly falls, Liz's brow creasing concernedly, "What is it?"

"Nothing," he shakes his head dismissively.

She knows better. He is likely worried that with Liz, his seemingly only current ally, gone, he will have to face the wrath of Hastings and the office alone for all that time. Liz understands, they had just gotten themselves together again, and now she was going away. Her heart beats a little quicker in shared disappointment, but she knows she has no choice but to go. This could be good for her. And, even, for him. She wants to help, obviously, but Steve cannot rely on her. He needs to face up to what he has done and make things right himself.

"Just, don't make any contact with Denton until I can back and we work something out, ok?" she practically pleads, knowing that once Steve has an idea in his head about how he should handle things it will be difficult to dissuade him or pick up the pieces. Like what happened with Denton last time.

"Ok," he agrees, understanding her plea, "Thank you, Lizzie. For being here."

"Of course. Where else would I be?"

* * *

The next day, Hari Baines is sitting in the interview room with Hastings and Steve sitting across from him. The interview has just begun, Liz watching alongside Kate and Dot in the viewing room.

"For the tape, image 313 is a photograph of item reference NTW-7," she hears Steve say through the screen, "Said item is a rope found hanging from an overhead support."

"You see, Detective Inspector Dot Cottan has given a statement where you attempted to overpower him with the intent of causing death by hanging," Hastings explains, "The exact same means as PC Rod Kennedy."

Liz looks beside her to Dot, who is staring intently at Baines on the screens. She feels her heart lurch in sympathy for the man. That must have been horrible. She is just glad he is alright.

"I didn't murder Rod," Baines insists, "and I absolutely didn't attempt to murder DI Cottan. In fact, DI Cottan set me up."

Liz scoffs, once again turning to look at the man next to her. Her eyes specifically train on the healing bruise on his jawline, remembering how swollen it had been that day. No, the man had been beaten and bloodied. There was absolutely no way that made any sense.

"He set you up?" Hastings chuckled, clearly as sceptical as she was.

"Yes," Baines states, "Cottan smashed himself in the face to make it look like I hit him, but I didn't."

Dot looks at her then, responding to her incredulously raised brow and huffing in disbelieving agreement. Kate also shares a look with the pair, shaking her head, doubtfully.

"And as far as the rope goes, he must have planted it there beforehand," Baines argues.

"He'll say anything to save his own skin," Kate mutters.

Liz feels Dot shift in his seat just behind her, most likely bothered by the man's outrageous accusation.

"Why would an officer of mine do such a thing?" Hastings challenges.

"To frame me for Rod's murder," Baines says, confidently.

Liz sees Steve shake his head, scratching it like he often did when he was irritated.

"Do you have anything to support these claims against DI Cottan?" Hastings asks, "Anything at all?"

Baines remains quiet.

"For the tape," Ted quips, "the interviewee is offering no supporting evidence."

Dot lets out a deep breath. Liz's mouth twists, thinking of how offended he must be that this man could accuse him of such an outrageous crime.

"For the tape," Steve now begins, "image 291, item reference MR-3, and image 292, item reference MR-4. MR-3 and 4 are mobile phones. A section-18 search of your homes uncovered a pair of unregistered pay-as-you-go phones concealed in the garage-"

Liz turns around to Dot once again as the interview audio continues behind her. She studies his face for a moment while he isn't looking, eyes anxiously watching the screens. He is stressed. The most stressed she had ever seen him - and she met with Dot during a divorce and gambling rehabilitation scheme, so that counted for something.

What he endured at the warehouse with Baines must have been extremely distressing. If not, traumatic. To have been beaten, cuffed and nearly hanged while trying to detain the man for two murders. It was only valid he would feel apprehensive with that man in the other room. Let alone, offended Baines would have the gall to accuse him of trying to set him up and possibly killing Rod.

Dot turns to her then, as Baines is heard replying 'no comment' over the audio. They knew they had him at that point.

It almost scares her how intensely restless his eyes are as they flicker between each of hers. Not wanting to capture the attention of Kate and embarrass him by making a show of his clearly anxiously agitated state, she silently reaches out and opens her palm to him. Dot looks down at it for a moment, his eyes softening as he realises what she is offering.

Gently, he slips his hand into hers, moving to rest their entwined fingers on his knee closest to her. She shifts her seat a little nearer so it is not as much of a stretch. Looking away from their hands, Liz smiles up at him, the man immediately unwinding at her kind encouragement. He smiles back down at her, the pair turning back to the screens as to not arouse suspicion from Kate on the other side of the room. Though, Liz struggles to focus on the rest of the interview, instead far too distracted by the feeling of her small hand engulfed in his.

Dot squeezes her hand tighter when Hastings announces they are arresting Hari Baines for the murder of PC Rod Kennedy and PS Danny Waldron. Hastings also charges him with the attempted murder of DI Matthew Cottan.

"Well, we got the bastard," he says, slowly letting her hand go as Kate turns to smile at him.

Liz misses the contact as soon as it is gone. Dot seems to as well, sending her an apologetic glance.

"Yeah, they should throw away the key," Kate agrees.

Dot waits for the officers to pass, escorting Baines from the building, before leaving the room with one last small smile in Liz's direction.

His smile falls into a smirk as soon as he knows he is out of sight.

* * *

"What is it?" Liz asks as she approaches Steve's desk later that evening, having seen him sitting with his head in his hands, clearly stressed.

Steve looks up at her, sighing, "That was the closest we have gotten to finding who the connection is to organised crime."

Liz nods, understanding how frustrating that is. Whoever had been calling and messaging Baines on those phones would be the key - if Baines even knew who it was, something he claims he did not.

Steve turns back to his computer, rubbing a tired hand over his face.

"There is something else," Liz prompts, "What's wrong?"

He huffs, knowing he can't fool her. Liz follows his hand as he gestures to his screen, taking a seat in the spare office chair beside him.

On the screen is an open, unredacted file on Ronan Murphy, the suspect shot and killed by Danny Waldron. Steve has searched the documents for the keyword 'unsolved', a result appearing for a connection to an unsolved gangland murder, for which he was brought in for several interviews in previous years.

Liz's eyes catch onto the words in bold at the bottom of the result description. She sighs.

'MURDER SQUAD'

She looks to Steve, seeing him read the words over and over.

"Just talk to her."

He turns to look nervously at Liz as the woman continues, "She loves you. She wants to help."

Steve shakes his head, unsure.

" _I_ do, too," Liz says, him snapping his gaze to her, shocked, "I want to help."

He relaxes at that, now understanding her meaning. But his chest aches. Likely out of nerves to face Sam, though.

"Are you really going to put your pride before this case? She could help you uncover something vital," Liz pushes, knowing that would hit a nerve, "Go on. Get home."

She was right, Steve grabs his jacket and stands from his chair.

"See you tomorrow, Lizzie," he says, waving goodbye and leaving the office.

He can't help but smile as he hears her call goodnight to him. He had reconciled with Lizzie. Things were good between them, again. She was there for him. And that meant _so_ much.

He only hopes Sam can be as understanding as she is.

* * *

"Ronan Murphy was interviewed by the team investigating Tommy Hunter's murder," Steve informs the group in Hastings' office.

He can feel Dot and Kate glaring at him, Hastings raising a curious brow. Liz sends him a small smile from across the room when they meet eyes.

She is happy for him. He must have talked to Sam.

"And where did you get that from?" the Superintendent asks.

He shifts where he stands, eyes once again flicking to Liz for encouragement before looking Hastings' in the eye, "I am not at liberty to say, sir."

Dot lets out an amused huff, Kate rolling her eyes. Liz eyes them, sadly.

"Here we go again," Kate mutters.

Steve sends them a disheartened glance, "Look, Tommy Hunter was involved in grooming underage girls and pimping them out. And he was about to turn informer. Now, the people who ordered his murder didn't want what he knew about child sexual exploitation to come out."

Liz can see Hastings standing taller from the corner of her eye, his interest evidently piqued.

Steve continues to explain himself, "And that's exactly the same motive as the motive of Danny Waldron."

Liz had been informed by Kate that the man Maneet had found who used to be at Sands View with Danny had identified Murphy as a man who often visited the home. There, the boys were exploited to sexual abuse by many adult men. It was likely the disappearance and destruction of all those files had not been coincidence, but a cover up.

"They are connected," Steve insists, pleading for the group of investigators to trust him again.

Liz watches as Kate steps forward, Dot remaining quiet, looking thoughtful.

"Sir," Kate says to Hastings, "We know Hunter's death was orchestrated by the Caddy and there's ample evidence someone was pulling on Hari Baines' strings."

Liz resists a smile, knowing that means Kate is supporting Steve's line of suspicion.

Steve, emboldened by her apparent support, continues, "They used the exact same methods as the Caddy. Voice contact only, multiple phones."

"Yeah, but…" Hastings says, considering it all, "How can this be the Caddy? DC Cole is dead."

"Well, the Caddy is my inquiry, sir," Dot pipes up, "So, maybe I should be the one to look into it?"

"Yeah, I'd be grateful," Hastings nods.

"Sir," Steve says, going to protest. He clearly hopes this new lead would hand the investigation over to himself.

"What? Something to say?" Hastings bites as he moves to the door, pointedly opening it with a glare at Steve, "Or are you not at liberty?"

Liz sighs at that, disappointed. Though she understood their frustrations, she had hoped this breakthrough from Steve would help fix what had been broken between them all. Evidently not. At least, not yet.

Steve takes the hint, stepping out of the office first with Dot and Kate following behind him. Liz slowly moves to the door herself, sending a borderline-pleading look to Hastings before walking over to the desks the three officers had made their way to. Hastings watches Beth walk away with a sigh, shutting the door behind her.

"Well, I know exactly who we should speak to first," Liz hears Kate say, grabbing her jacket off her chair.

"Who?" Steve asks, reaching for his own.

"We'll be fine, thanks, Steve," Kate bites, turning away from him, fiercely.

Liz watches as Steve deflates, dropping his coat back down.

Dot garbs his coat and moves over to the man, who looks up at him, dejectedly, "See, the thing is, mate. Not one likes a partner holding out on them."

Steve furrows his brow at the man's accusation, glaring up at the taller man. Dot's eyes flick over to Kate, then to Liz where they linger for a longer moment, before turning back down to Steve with a smirk.

Steve drops his gaze, surrendering to the guilt. Dot moves away to where Kate stands near Liz by his desk.

"Where are we going?" he asks Kate.

"To the lying bastard who told us the Caddy was dead," Kate states, turning to head out of the office.

Dot nods in acknowledgement to Liz as he moves past her, the woman sending him a sheepish smile goodbye.

As they leave, Liz moves toward Steve who is now sitting at his desk, staring distractedly at his desktop.

Liz reaches for his elbow, the touch seeming to ground him and pull his attention up to her. She sends him a hopefully assuring smile, "Like I said, just give them time."

Steve nods, far too aware of the heat from her palm seeping through his sleeve. He suppresses a shudder when she retracts it, feeling a juxtaposing chill replace it.

"I should go and pack," Liz declares, taking a small step backward away from him, not wanting to give the impression she was storming away to leave him alone as the others had done.

"Yeah, uh, see you tomorrow," Steve says, trying to sound indifferent. Admittedly, he wishes she could stay. Stop him from feeling so sorry for himself.

Instead, she sends him a small wave and makes her way for her office, leaving him to sit alone. Just like he felt.


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited about this chapter. Sorry it is so short, but I hope you all enjoy it regardless. Steve POVs are always fun to write and I just hope I did him justice! Let me all know what you think!

"DI Matthew Cottan has not only distinguished himself but the entire Anti-Corruption division," the Chief Constable praises.

The room erupts into applause as the man is called onto the City Hall stage to collect his award. Dot is being honoured this evening for outstanding bravery in detaining Hari Baines with commendable disregard of his own personal safety. It is a huge event, everyone dressed up fancy and downing drinks. Almost everyone involved in the Waldron case, and a few higher up officials, had been invited. It was a time to celebrate and socialise away from the workplace - a rare occasion. And everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Except for Steve.

His mind is elsewhere as Hastings and Kate at his table join in the applause, watching proudly as Dot makes his way onto the platform.

Lizzie is leaving for Manchester tomorrow. He had hoped she would be here, she said she would. It seems she was running late. These events were bad enough at the best of times, but when everyone there seemed to hold disdain for you, it was hell.

Just then, the door opens at the back of the hall. Steve turns, his knee bouncing impatiently as he hopes it is her.

When it _is_ Lizzie who appears through the doorway, he wants to sigh in relief. But his breath hitches.

He can only gawk at her as she quietly tiptoes her way through the tables toward them.

Steve's eyes strain to not rake over the emerald satin dress she is wearing, and the way her smoothly curled hair swishes behind her. This was such a contrast to the work suit or sweatpants he was used to seeing her in. A _very good_ contrast.

He snaps his gaze back to the front, willing himself not to stare as she gracefully seats herself in the chair he made a point to leave empty beside him.

"Hey," Liz whispers, leaning closer to him and smiling.

"Hey," Steve whispers back, fixing his eyes on hers and not the way her dress seemed even tighter as she was sitting, accentuating her slim frame perfectly. He does not know what else to say.

Hastings turns to her then as the clapping begins to die down, "Glad you could make it."

"Sorry I am late, had to check everything for tomorrow," she says, quietly so as to not disrupt the Chief Constable's speech.

Steve watches as she quickly smiles in greeting to Kate then turns to watch the stage, her smile widening at the sight of Dot accepting the award.

"It's an honour to present DI Cottan with this award for outstanding bravery," the Chief Constable announces to the room, "The commendation reads, "in commendation of outstanding conduct in apprehending a dangerous suspect with commendable disregard for your own personal safety." Well done, Cottan."

"Thank you, sir," Dot says, accepting the other man's hand in a shake.

The room erupts into applause again, but Steve keeps his eye on the woman beside him.

She is smiling as she applauds, watching the man receive his trophy on the stage. Not just her usual, kind smile she used with clients. But a genuinely proud one. He can tell by the way it lights up her already bright eyes.

Steve has seen that smile before. Only once. Back when they arrested Denton. When they hugged. Steve had considered himself honoured to be on the receiving end. His chest swells whenever he recalls it, that special glint in her eye as she gazed up at him that day.

But now, as he sees her look at the other man with the same spark, his chest _hurts_. The memory is tainted now. It was not just her smile for him. Perhaps, it had just been relief that day. After all they went through with Denton, that would be understandable. Maybe he was mistaken.

He knew Liz and Dot were growing closer, as much as he hated to accept it. Steve was unsure of the extent of their newfound friendship, or relationship, but it worried him. It was common knowledge himself and the man didn't exactly see eye-to-eye. There was something about him. Something that didn't sit right. Steve doesn't trust many people, but he certainly doesn't trust Dot because of that. What if he hurt Liz? Steve would never forgive himself.

But Lizzie was Steve's friend. He trusts her, and her judgement. Liz was the best evaluator of character he knew. Ok, he had doubted her a few times, but that was only when it came to himself. If she trusts Dot, he should too.

Lizzie proved herself to be his best friend time and time again. Supporting him when no one else will, believing in him when no one else will, being there when no one else will. The least he could do is do that for her.

Especially after percent events and the way everyone was disregarding him now, she was the only one to give him the time. That was special, something to be cherished. Something he would owe her for, no matter how much she would protest it.

Besides, she looks happy. Is that not what he wants for her? For her to be as happy with someone as he is with Sam? Well, at the moment, things were not so happy. Maybe happier than he and Sam, then.

He felt how furious she was at him when he acted jealous. And she had every right to be. Who was he to dictate her life? To judge her?

No. If he was going to prove himself to her as a loyal and loving friend, Steve needed to take a step back. Allow her to be happy. That's all he wants.

And actually, on closer inspection, her smile now is close-lipped. When she smiled for him, she had grinned so wide her cheeks looked as though they would split-

Lizzie turns to him, still clapping. She smiles. He smiles back. Steve begins to clap himself.

A little while later, Steve rubs his neck, awkwardly. He is standing beside Kate as she converses with some of their colleagues. He had spoken to them a few times himself, and any other time he is sure he would enjoy this chance to socialise outside AC-12. But Kate, who was clearly attempting to give him the cold-shoulder, was not making any allowances for him to get a word in.

He looks around, over his shoulder, softening as he sees Lizzie stood beside Hastings and Gill on the other side of the room. She looks almost as awkward as he does, not joining in the conversation but taking several sips from the glass in her hand. She seems bored. He assumes it is because Gill is the one talking, dominating the conversation with her irritatingly imperious manner. Her eyes flit around the room, as his had done. She seems to be looking for someone. _Probably Dot,_ he huffs to himself.

Steve's breath hitches again when she catches his eye, Lizzie's expression lighting up immediately as she does. He turns to face her, watching as she excuses herself and makes her way over to him. He does the same, walking, rather hastily, to meet her in the middle.

She grins, "Would you like a drink?"

He nods, gesturing to his empty glass, "Sure."

Liz taps the nearest waiter on the shoulder, asking politely to replace their two glasses. She hands one back to him, thanking the man as he walks away with the tray.

Steve takes a sip. He hates champagne. He covers a cringe as it scratches his throat.

But, this evening had been drab enough, he couldn't imagine how much he would suffer if he was completely sober. (Also, it gave him something to do other than stare at her in that dress.)

Liz takes a sip herself, smiling at him, "How are you finding the evening?"

Steve cannot resist a sigh. She nods, understanding.

Liz decides to change the subject, wanting to lighten the mood for him, "You brush up well. Never seen you in a bow-tie."

Steve chokes, letting out a small cough to hide it. The tips of his ears turn red. Taking that as an invite, unable to stop himself, he lets his eyes admire her attire. From her lithe legs, which he had never seen bare before; to her accentuated hips, also hidden by the suits she wears; to her flatteringly light makeup, not quite hiding the faint blush blooming on her cheeks; to her silky, red hair, perfectly framing her porcelain face.

The ache in his chest burns as he tries to form words in response, "And you- you look-"

"Beautiful," a voice declares as it approaches, confidently, "He means to say you look beautiful."

Steve deflates as Dot appears beside him, not even sparing the other man a glance as his eyes rake over the woman. He watches as Liz's grin widens, her looking to the ground, modestly self-conscious. She shifts on her feet, folding her arms as if to hide herself, clearly not used to such attention.

Dot was right. Lizzie did look beautiful.

Steve wonders why he could not think of the word. He was only complimenting his friend. A quiet voice in his head tells him it is because Lizzie always looks beautiful. That word is obvious. Tonight, she was more than that.

"Congratulations!" Lizzie beams, moving closer to Dot to embrace him, also likely wanting the attention off herself like usual.

Steve can only watch as Dot wraps his arms around her waist, gripping tightly as she winds her free arm around his neck. His fists clench.

Liz leans back, giving the man a swift, sweet kiss to his cheek. His fists shake.

Dot does the same, pulling away with a smirk. He can't take it anymore.

Steve steps away, quickly turning his back on the pair and making his way over to the buffet bar. He isn't hungry, not in the slightest. In fact, as he stands there in front of the finger food, he is sure he wouldn't be able to stomach it. He feels nauseous.

It is better to leave them to it. He has embarrassed her about it all enough and seen how it makes her feel. He doesn't want to say something wrong, or do something brash. Especially after all she has done for him and is doing, Steve cannot jeopardise that. It wasn't his business. He needs to give them space. He needs space himself.

Picking up a paper plate and beginning to pick up food he knows he will not eat, just to distract himself, he risks a look back in their direction. Gill has now approached the two, Liz once again looking at her, distrustful. But she does not seem as bored. As she stands beside Dot as they converse with the woman, she seems more at ease. Like Steve noted before, she looks _happier_.

Steve's gut twists as he observes Gill say something to Dot before walking away, Liz once again turning to embrace the man, excitedly. Most likely a promotion offer, Steve thinks rationally, though it is soon drowned out by envy.

Dot seemed to have it all. Of course Steve would be jealous. He had plenty of things in his own life to be satisfied with. A job he enjoyed, Sam, Liz as a friend. But Dot had charisma, respect, an ever-increasing rank... _Liz_. As Steve had considered before, he did not know the extent of their relationship. But he knew it was blossoming into something. To have Liz in his life in any sort of capacity was something for Steve to be grateful for. But now she seemed to be in Dot's too, just in a different way. That was difficult for him to get his head around.

It had always been Steve and Lizzie, before he started to show an interest. How could he not be uncomfortable with the idea of a relationship coming between their friendship? Then again, why should it? Nothing changed when he started a relationship with Sam…

Or had it? Thinking back, they had spent less time together in the past year. Sam had always seemed wary of the other woman for some reason. He had hoped the two would get along, so he could spend time with both without any conflicts. That had not been the case. It was as if Sam wanted him to choose. In fact, his girlfriend has pretty much threatened him with that, after she once again dragged up what happened on the Hurrell case one night. Thinking about it, she did that often. Steve did not understand what Sam had against Lizzie. They were only friends, not like she had any reason to be jealous. But it seemed clear to him now. His relationship had, in some way, come between them.

So how could he not be wary the same would happen if Lizzie were to be in a relationship? With them both in relationships with other people, it could be worse, right?

His friendship with Lizzie meant too much to him for Steve to let that happen.

But how could he stop it? He was not going to 'choose' Lizzie's friendship and forfeit what he had with Sam. For the most part, his relationship with his girlfriend has bettered him, despite the rough patch they were currently going through because of his past antics. But he certainly wasn't going to push Lizzie away by coming between her and Dot. Lizzie was his friend and she deserved to be happy. She had been as good for him as Sam, if not better having known her longer. To ruin whatever was going on for her would be to ruin their friendship, thus pushing her away anyway.

He groans, throwing his full plate of uneaten food in a nearby bin. Grabbing another glass of champagne from a waiter as they pass by, Steve ignores the bitter taste in hopes it will rid him of his aching, dry throat. It doesn't work.

Steve stands outside City Hall as the crowd floods out, spilling into the street. He had come out about ten minutes ago - actually, he isn't sure how long, the thoughts in his head overwhelming his sense of reality - wanting some fresh air to clear his throbbing head.

He pushes himself off the wall he had been leaning against when he sees Kate appear, Liz and Dot following close behind. He swallows down his enmity at seeing their arms linked, making his way through the dissipating crowd to approach them.

"Steve," Lizzie greets as she sees him, unwinding herself from Dot, "I wondered where you had run off to."

He nods, awkwardly as he tries to find an excuse, "Yeah, think I drank a bit too much champagne."

Lizzie laughs, Steve's heart clenching as he thinks of her having thought of him after he left in such a hurry.

"Need someone to walk you home?" he offers, hopefully.

His heart sinks as her face does, "Oh, sorry but Kate offered to drive me back to hers. Some of my stuff is there and I need it before I leave tomorrow."

His heart sinks further.

Steve's eyes flick to Kate and Dot who stand a little way behind her. They are glaring at him, disapprovingly.

Liz twists her mouth, apologetically, "Text me when you get back so I know you're home safe."

He only nods again, unsure what to say, but touched by her concern.

"Good luck," Steve mutters, genuinely meaning it but too disheartened to express it.

"Thank you," she sends him a small smile, "I'll see you when I get back next weekend."

The pair stare at each other, neither knowing what else to say and do. He shifts slightly closer, almost hoping she embraces him before they part, like he had watched her do with Dot all evening. She doesn't.

"We should get going," Kate prompts, twisting on her heel and heading to her car.

Liz looks over her shoulder at the woman, nodding in acknowledgement, before turning back to Steve. She sends him one last smile, an apologetic glint in her gaze, as if she is hesitant to leave, before following after her friend.

He stands still, watching as she walks past Dot, who fixes him with one last glare before encircling his arm with Lizzie's.

Steve's face contorts into contempt as he watches Dot politely open the car door for her, Liz giving him another sweet, thankful kiss on the cheek before climbing into the passenger seat. Dot waves with a charming grin before closing the door behind her, taking a step back as Kate pulls the car away.

With both men watching the car disappear down the road, Dot turns back to look at him. Steve flinches under the other man's stare, his blood boiling. It wasn't necessarily malicious, nor a warning. In fact the man's face was blank.

He knows, whatever the man's meaning, he should glare back. Challenge him.

Instead, Steve turns and walks away, surrendering.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooo another chapter! hope you all enjoy this and the struggle Liz is going through. would love to hear your thoughts and feedback, especially as we go into one of the most complex arcs of this story! thank you to everyone who is reading and has commented and reviewed, you make me so incredibly happy!

"Kate!" she calls out to her friend sitting at the bar. The woman looks over to Liz, smiling with a wave. Liz weaves herself and the suitcase behind her through the many tables and chairs, smiling wide to see her friend after a week away.

Kate stands, embracing her in a welcoming hug, "How was Manchester?"

Liz chuckles as they pull away, moving onto the stool beside her, "It went really well, yeah! How has everything been here?"

Kate's face falls, only slightly. She nods, trying to uphold a smile. But it is strained. Liz catches onto it, her brow furrowing questioningly.

Just then, before Kate can explain what was on her mind, the doors to the pub open.

"Dot!" Liz beams as the man makes his way over to them.

The much taller man smiles back, happy to see her. He wraps his arms around her, Liz squeezing back for a moment before they pull away, arms still holding onto each other.

"Missed you, Queenie," he smirks.

Liz blushes, "And you."

She turns to smile back at Kate, who she remembers is watching, dropping his arms, "All of you."

Kate sends her a small smile back, eyes flicking suggestively between the two of them.

Liz ignores it. Kate had interrogated Liz about everything between them after his gentlemanly display at the award ceremony. She had told her all about the chilli, and the tupperware and everything since. Liz avoided mentioning how Steve had reacted, though she was sure the woman saw it for herself after their apparently affectionate display at the warehouse. She knows Kate will jump at the opportunity to deem it jealousy and imply something ridiculous, as she had done so before.

Honestly, for a grown woman she certainly acted like a schoolgirl sometimes.

"How was your week?" Dot asks after ordering himself a beer and her a glass of wine.

She thanks him for the drink, then nods, "It went well. Managed to convince them to start hiring for some wellbeing officers in their smaller branches. They put me in charge of that, so might have to go back soon and put things in place. Training and such. Hopefully, after some time, they see the results they want and can expand the network."

"That's brilliant," Kate compliments, Liz looking down, bashfully.

"Yeah," Dot smiles at her, causing her blush to deepen, "Nice one!"

"Where's Steve?" she asks, having been reminded of him at that conversation. She had hoped to tell him when she got back and saw him, assuming he would also be meeting with them at the pub, "He alright?"

Liz had hoped things were beginning to sort themselves while she was away. That the others would begin to listen and accept he wants to rectify his mistake. Kate had been irritated by the man several times before, but they always worked things out. If Liz could forgive him and move on, surely they all could.

The way her friends' faces darken at his name suggests otherwise.

Liz studies them as their gazes snap away from her, stiffly looking around the room. Kate begins to wring her hands before taking a large swig of her wine, while Dot clears his throat.

At first, her stomach twists in disappointment; they still seemed frustrated with the man because of Denton's accusations and what that meant for the case, her being freed. Though, her gut sinks further as she realises these reactions implied more than that.

Liz sighs, looking desperately between the two officers either side of her, "What has he done now?"

Dot looks past her to Kate, his eyes almost dismal. Kate looks back at him, Liz hearing her take in a sharp breath. Neither say anything.

That worries her more.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Dot avoids her eye, nodding at Kate who then moves off her stool.

"I've got to go," Kate suddenly announces, grabbing her jacket, "I have Josh tonight."

"Oh, ok," Liz responds, dazed.

"Glad to have you back. See you tomorrow," Kate says with one last look between them before she heads out of the pub.

Liz watches the door swing behind her for a moment, confused, before turning hastily to Dot.

He is just looking at her, sadly.

Liz tries to ignore the nauseating twist of her gut and the anxiety rising in her throat.

"The Caddy is still active," Dot begins to explain, hesitantly, with Liz not understanding where he was going, "And I have put together a profile. We think we have him."

"That's good, isn't it?" Liz asks, almost prompting him to say so, despite her confusion at his dejected tone.

He shifts in his seat, looking around at the other punters in the pub, "Is there anywhere more private we could go?"

* * *

She steps on another envelope as she enters her flat. Her already uneasy nerves send shocks through to her fingers as she shakily picks it up. Feeling a cruelly familiar shape inside it and seeing her messily scrawled name on the front, Liz hastily shoves it into the nearest drawer. Slamming it shut, she moves aside so Dot, who is carrying her suitcase for her, can pass by.

He heaves the case through the door, placing it where she instructs him to by the table. Thanking him, she gives the guilty drawer one more worried glance, Liz moves to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

"Coffee?" she asks, turning to see Dot looking around her flat.

He looks away from her bookshelves with a polite, grateful smile, "Yeah, ta."

Liz walks to her mug cupboard to begin making it.

"Where is this cat of yours then?"

She freezes at his question, one hand extended in the air as she was reaching for a mug. Her eyes automatically snap to the drawer by the door.

Clearing her throat after a moment to cover her shock, she lies, "At a friend's. They were looking after her while I was away. I pick her up tomorrow."

She sets down the two mugs, then walks over to the fridge to get the milk.

Hoping to distract herself from the envelope and what she knew was inside, before she is sick, Liz changes the subject, "So, what is it you wanted to tell me?"

She hears him sigh, sadly, causing her to look over at him.

Dot puts his hands in his pockets as he moves over to her kitchen, speaking in a sincerely hushed voice, "Now, this is severely confidential…"

Liz chuckles, though humorlessly as she feels her nerves spike at his tone, "Confidentiality is my job."

He smirks, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes, distracted by whatever it was he was struggling to confess.

"Detective Inspectors and above only. You and Kate are the only lowers to know."

"How about you take a seat and I'll bring the drinks over when they are done?" she suggests, gesturing to her sofa. Admittedly, she just wanted time to breathe, to delay whatever it was Dot had to tell her. She knew it couldn't be good. Dot was never like this.

She reaches for her bag, pulling out her phone as Dot nods and begins to move away, "I just need to call Steve. I said I would when I got back-"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Dot almost growls, whipping back around to face her.

Liz stares at him, dumbfounded. What was going on?

He steps closer to her, reaching his hand out to cover hers, lowering the phone, "I think we should talk first."

The kettle finishes boiling before she can respond. She doesn't even know how to, not knowing what he wants to say.

Liz drops her phone, Dot removing his hand and stalking over to her sofa like she offered.

Finishing the hot drinks, she brings them over to where he sits, placing them on the coffee table and taking a seat beside him. He thanks her, but leaves the coffee untouched while she takes a sip to calm herself.

She places it down next to his, looking at him, concerned, "Is everything alright?"

Dot seems to smile slightly at her use of her work voice, but mostly appears down, "Not really, no."

Liz scoots a little closer, intrigued by his admission, "What is it?"

He sighs before beginning to explain, not quite meeting her eye, "Arnott's going to be issued a Reg-15."

"What?" she exclaims, brow fiercely furrowing, "Because of Denton?"

Dot shakes his head, sighing, "He has been seen bearing a firearm around the office."

" _What?!_ Why-?"

"And then, obviously, accusations of having improper relationships with a suspect, also of planting evidence against her," Dot rubs a tired hand awkwardly across his jaw, as Liz stares at him incredulously.

"But-" Liz struggles to comprehend it, "Surely more evidence needs to be found?"

"Liz, I saw him with the gun."

"Why would he-?"

"I don't know," he sighs, again.

Liz stares at him, bewildered. That did not sound like Steve. Not at all. What was going on?

"He has also ordered more forensics on evidence seized at Danny Waldron's flat," Dot explains, watching her concernedly, "Seems he is trying to make out I missed a lead."

"But, Steve- he wouldn't-" she struggles, "Why would he?"

Dot shrugs. He looks away from her, staring at the untouched coffee, awkwardly, "He tried turning it on me, when Hastings questioned him. Practically admitted it."

"I should call him," she says, hastily going to stand from the sofa. Dot catches her arm, pulling her back before she has the chance. He looks her in the eye, pointedly, the apologetic glint darkening as he does.

"There is something else, isn't there?" Liz prompts, anxiously. She could see it in the way his shoulders tensed.

He groans slightly, once again rubbing his jaw.

"He fits the profile," Dot claims, quietly, already flinching before she has the chance to react.

Liz feels her teeth grind together, "What profile?"

Dot hesitates, "The Caddy."

Before Liz can even process what he has said, she lets out a disbelieving cackle. This had to be a joke. Another of Dot's poor attempts to banter at the man's expense.

She stops, seeing the sincere look Dot is sending her.

"You're joking?"

The man shakes his head, regrettably.

Liz deflates, feeling as though she is curving into herself as her hands begin to shake.

"You think _Steve_ is _The Caddy_?" she shakes her head, cynically. Liz struggles to process it, unable to focus on one thought or the other. But it sounded wrong.

Dot says nothing, only looks at her.

"I thought Cole was your best suspect," Liz states, almost hopefully. DC Cole, the man who kidnapped Denton after crashing the police transit vehicle, the man who killed Tommy Hunter, also killed Georgia Trotman.

"He was, based on presumability," Dot explains through another sigh, "But that conclusion is no longer supportable."

"Why?"

"He's dead. The Caddy is still active," he reminds her. Liz berates herself for forgetting that obvious point. But she had been hopeful it was not the case.

"So why Steve?" she feels ridiculous just asking that, having this conversation.

"Hari Baines' statements have led to the most accurate profile-"

"But Baines never met The Caddy, he said so," Liz argues, not even having heard his evidence against Steve yet but refusing to accept it.

"Please, just..." Dot winces at her bitter tone, "Hear me out."

Liz nods, desperately curious to know, even just to have the chance to prove him wrong.

"The Caddy is male," he ignores Liz's cynical snort as he continues to list the profile, "Given his lifelong links to organised crime, The Caddy is almost certainly from a working class background and grew up in an urban environment. Also given the history of his activities starting from sometime between 2005 to 2010, according to the video statement by Tommy Hunter, he is probably under 35. He also has access to confidential information regarding ongoing investigations, he is almost certainly a detective-"

"But that could be anyone," Liz argues with another humourless laugh , "That could be _you_ -"

"-And given his ability to managed communications without ever portraying his own identity implies a highly trained, highly sophisticated approach to covert operations," Dot asserts, "that is associated with counter-terrorism."

Liz quitens.

"And then, Hari describes The Caddy's voice as having a London, or southeast accent."

Liz finds her jaw slacking, trying to think of another refute before she can process it all, "But this is just a profile, surely-"

"Only The Caddy could've got his hands on Lindsay Denton's bribe money from the right forensic source," Dot argues, though his voice remains soft, sensitive to how much of a shock this must be.

Liz feels tears begin to prick behind her eyes, "That can't be-"

"I'm sorry," Dot whispers, reaching a hand out to her as she had done for him during Baines' interview.

She takes it, slowly, her mind still struggling to comprehend such an absurd accusation. It was entirely nonsensical. But, at the same time, Liz cannot deny, it makes sense.

"No," Liz suddenly declares, more to her own train of thought, "You're wrong."

Dot sighs, looking down at their entwined fingers and placing his other hand on top, stroking the back of hers with his thumb.

"Steve couldn't-" she shakes her head, furiously, feeling her grip tighten fiercely to the man's hand, "What did Kate say?"

"That she wants to know what comes from the disciplinary hearing," Dot tells her, "Though, she has had her suspicions too."

Liz inhales, sharply. That was not what she had wanted or expected to hear.

"Look, just between us," Dot says, softly, leaning closer to her, "I have a lead on him planting that money at Denton's."

Liz feels as though her nerves are on fire.

"I can't disclose it, not without seeing it through," he admits, "I just wanted to let you know so it doesn't come as a big shock."

Liz snaps her eyes up to his, feeling the water begin to well.

"I know this is going to be difficult," Dot sympathises, watching her attentively, "but we've got to keep an eye on his every move.

Liz sniffs, hopelessly, "Just to rule him out, yeah?"

Dot nods, unconvincingly.

"Just," he begins, gripping onto her hand a little tighter, "don't say anything. I hope I am wrong, I really do. But we need to investigate, even to, as you say, rule him out. If he finds out, it could harm the process. You don't want to ruin that, do you?"

Liz chews on her bottom lip, her eyes dropping to their hands. She nods, weakly.

"I'll go," Dot says, gently letting go of her hand and standing from the sofa, "Give you time to think and unpack."

"Uh, yeah," Liz says, willing the tears not to fall and also standing to lead him to the door, "Call me if anything happens."

Dot sends her one last, small smile as he walks through the door. Before he walks away, he turns back to her, "I am sorry."

With that, he leaves. She waits for him to be out of sight before slamming the door behind her.

With one more glance to the drawer, within which was undoubtedly another _paw_ , Liz collapses to the ground. She cries, allowing her thoughts to overwhelm her.

* * *

"Lizzie!"

She hears her name being called as soon as she enters the office. She sighs.

Liz had hoped she would make it to her own office before he would find her. Unfortunately, it seems he had been waiting by the entrance for her arrival.

She turns, forcing a small smile onto her lips, "Steve."

She winces as he bounds over to her, beaming, "When did you get back? You said you would call?"

"Last night," she says, her smile faltering. Liz turns to put her keys in her office door, unlocking it, as to not have to look at him. Knowing what she did, what he was being accused of and would have to face, but being unable to tell him and to help was hurting. She had promised Dot, understanding that this needed to be the way - if only to exclude him as a suspect.

The guilt of her also considering the possible truth of the accusations hurt more.

Steve frowns at her blunt response, an almost irritable tone to it, "How did it go?"

"It went well," she replies, again, bluntly, opening the door and stepping inside her room. Removing her jacket, Liz refuses to turn to him again, afraid of what she would see if she did.

Steve had been looking forward to seeing Liz again. This was not the welcome arrival back he had expected. Everyone had seemed off with him while she was away, almost more so than before. He wasn't blind. He could see the looks people would send him and each other when he walked by. After Liz showed a speck of kindness, he had wished the others followed suit. It seems now, for whatever reason, even she was turning her back on him, again.

"Everything alright?" Steve questions, wary.

Liz panics then, her eye involuntarily meeting his before flicking behind him to where she could see Dot standing by the printer a few desks away. The other man was not quite staring at them, but she could tell he was listening in, reminding her to keep quiet about what he had told her.

"Fine," Liz lies, regaining Steve's attention after he followed her line of sight to see Dot too, his posture seeming to exhaust. He looks back at her, the previous excitement she had seen on his face at seeing her now replaced with a gloom she could only try to describe as betrayal or disappointment.

"Listen," she says, Steve perking up slightly, "I have a lot of work to get through. We can talk later, yeah?"

He flattens again, eyes falling to his feet. Steve clears his throat, "Oh, yeah, alright then."

"Would you mind closing the door on your way out?" she asks, moving behind her desk to take a seat. She turns her computer screen to face her more slightly, so he cannot see her empty email inbox.

He nods, timidly, moving to reach for the door-handle.

That's when she sees it. The gun.

It is holstered in a harness of some sort, tucked behind his blazer.

Dot was telling the truth. Steve really was bringing a firearm into the office.

But _why_?

Liz snaps her gaze back to her computer, pretending not to have seen it as he closes the door.

She groans, leaning her elbows on the table and grinding her palms into her eyes.

If Dot was right about the firearm, something she had considered before to be so outrageously out-of-character, what else could he be right about?

Her heart beats, wildly.

A knock on her door a moment later breaks her thoughts before she can begin to wallow. She wipes her now shaking fingers under her eyes to remove the mascara that she smudged there, calling for them to enter.

Dot appears in her doorway, "Can I have a quick word?"

"Of course," Liz says, though she wishes she could deny it, wanting time alone.

He pulls the door behind him, sending a brief look to Steve who is sitting at his desk, glaring cautiously and curiously back at him before it closes.

"Did you see it?" Dot asks, hurriedly, moving closer to her desk.

She sighs, her eyes closing, "The gun? Yes. I saw it."

"We need to tell Hastings and Biggeloe-"

"No!" Liz hears herself shout, Dot awkwardly placing his hands in his pockets.

She clears her throat, "Let me talk to him first."

Dot huffs through his nose, looking away from her, "That's not a good idea, Liz."

"I won't mention the investigation, just the gun," she pleads, "This might all just be a big misunderstanding."

"And what if it isn't?" Dot throws back, "What if we are right?"

Liz winces at his use of the word ' _we'_ , knowing he means himself and Kate - possibly even herself too despite her desperate doubts. She inwardly curses herself for not being able to refute.

"He can't know we have suspicions," the man says, his eyes almost willing her to understand. It devastates her that she does.

She nods, though part of her remains unconvinced.

Steve was going through something. Liz is unsure what. But she wants to help. This wasn't like him. Liz knows Steve. Better than anyone.

At least, she thinks she does.

"I just need to know, if we have to go through with this, that you've got my back," Dot appeals, sincerely.

Liz looks up at him, heart shattering at the conflicted restlessness of his gaze. This was not easy for him, she can tell. If he makes such a bold accusation, and it does turn out to be false - as she hopes - there is a lot at risk; his reputation, his promotion, his respect. Matthew Cottan has worked so hard over the years to pull himself out of such a dark, low place to achieve what he has. It was no wonder he seemed so agitated about people supporting him solving this case, especially with such a high cost. She had seen how much he fidgeted during the Baines' interviews, and the reluctance he had telling her about the allegations on Steve.

In this job, it was hard for things not to become personal. For Dot, especially in regards to The Caddy and recent events, it was definitely just that. Baines had attacked him, Steve was his colleague, The Caddy seemed out to get him.

Not answering his half-question, as not wanting to fully side against Steve, Liz sends him a small smile. The corners of his mouth twitch upward, a relieved glint in his eye.

"Sorry, if I seem sceptical," Liz says, sadly, "It's just… I know Steve. I can't imagine him to be capable of such…"

She struggles to find the words.

Dot nods, then shrugs, "How well can you know anyone?"

Liz nods, knowing that to be true. Dot struggled to meet her eye as he said that, she notes, most likely feeling awkward he has come between her and her best friend. From the way he has been acting and talking to her about it, he clearly knows what a difficult position he has put her in. But he is only doing his job. She knows that.

If anything, she just wishes _Steve_ hadn't been so stupid as to get himself in this situation. He was smarter than this. At least, she hopes so. But then, Dot was right; how well _can_ you know someone?

Wasn't the whole point of her job to be unbiased? To encourage others to look at things from every point of view, considering every possibility?

Her head hurts.

* * *

"You're going to suspend him, aren't you?" Liz suddenly asks, taking an awkward sip of her tea.

Ted pauses stirring his own, taken back but unsurprised by her sudden change of demeanour. The conversation had been light until then, the young woman telling him how her ventures went in Manchester. It was rare for the two of them to get time together, just to catch up. Things had been so busy lately, what with the Denton retrial and Waldron case.

He had hoped Liz would not find out, that Dot would keep his mouth shut. But Ted knew, with her persistence and the two seeming closer lately, it would be unlikely.

He just needed time to think things over, without her influence. There had been so many times in the past where Beth had convinced him to give Steve Arnott another chance. They are close. He knows that, everyone does. The last thing he wants is to upset her. But this was about more than keeping his goddaughter on his good side.

The older man sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as she stares at him, expectantly, "How much do you know?"

"As much as you, apparently," she says, bitterly, implying there was not enough evidence to go off.

Hastings leans back in his chair, folding his arms, "Well, what am I supposed to do, Beth? Hm?"

She is quiet, unsure herself.

"You know I have to at least consider the possibility," he explains, hoping she can tell by his regrettable tone that he also has his doubts, but cannot be heard coming out stating it.

"I know," Liz admits, quietly, placing her teacup on the table, now finding the sweet taste has turned bitter.

"Yeah?" Hastings calls out to whoever has just knocked at his door

Liz stiffens as Kate walks in with Steve. She had seen the pair rush out of the office earlier that day, probably after some sort of lead. It had reassured Liz for a moment, seeing the two of them working together again. She wondered if Kate really did believe Dot's accusations.

Steve sends her a glance, Liz straining to keep her gaze on Ted from where she sat.

"We've got a witness claiming Fairbank suppressed a child rape allegation against Dale Roach," Kat claims, holding a pile of files in her hands.

Patrick Fairbank, Liz remembers Ted telling her of him once, was a former Chief Superintendent.

"Who's Dale Roach?" she asks, feeling Steve's eyes still on her.

Unsure how he fits into all this, Liz listens, intrigued.

"Ex-member of the city council. Joe Nash, who was a boy at Sands View at the same time as Waldron has identified him as one of the abusers," Kate explains, "He's friends with Fairbank."

Liz nods, now understanding, though raises a questioning brow as Hastings sighs with his eyes closed shut disappointedly.

"Ideally, sir," Steve speaks up, having only just torn his eyes away from the woman trying hard not to look his way, "we put these allegations to Fairbank in the presence of a solicitor."

Hastings stays quiet, looking down at his desk with a tired expression, "I'll have to think about that."

"But, sir-"

"Steve," Hastings says, holding up a hand to the man. He then hesitates, not giving a reason for him to not jump at the chance.

 _Why would Hastings not want to arrest an accused abuser? Or the man covering it up?_ Liz wonders. _Especially if they have evidence and witnesses…_

"Sir," Kate acknowledges, clearly suppressing an eye roll before leaving the room.

Steve goes to leave, too, Liz beginning to follow behind. Before she can, the man pauses. Then, closes the door and turns back to the Superintendent. Liz stops, now feeling as though Steve has purposely trapped her in the room too. She should walk out, leave them to it.

But, her curiosity gets the better of her. She stays.

"Sir, there's no operational reason to drag our feet with Fairbank," Steve pleads, Liz just watching as Ted looks up at him in surprise.

Hastings snickers, "I know how to conduct an anti-corruption case, Steve."

"With respect, again, sir," Steve continues, adamant, "I'm becoming concerned this inquiry is dragging its feet."

The Superintendent throws down the pen he is holding and leans back in his seat, incredulous. Liz takes a few steps back, suddenly regretting her decision to stay.

" _I'm_ not the issue here, son," Hastings says, loudly.

"Sir?" Steve questions his meaning.

Liz chews her lower lip, willing Hastings to keep his cool.

"I can't have you interviewing Fairbank because of the suspicions hanging over your head!"

She winces at his words, her heart beating wildly as she expects Hastings' temper to get the better of him.

Steve lowers his head, looking at his shoes, assuming he means only Denton's testimony.

"That's why we are dragging our feet here against my better judgement," Hastings shouts.

Steve scoffs, "Still this crap about me planting evidence against Lindsay Denton?"

Liz closes her eyes at his lack of knowing, wishing he would just keep his mouth shut before things get worse for him - as they were going to, anyway, with the way he had been behaving.

"Listen to me," Hastings warns, "We can bring Fairbank in but I cannot have you in the room. I will not risk jeopardising future prosecutions."

Steve's jaw slackens, offended. He looks over his shoulder to where Liz stands. Her arms are folded, as she leans into herself, timidly. That unnecessarily guilty look is on her face as she avoids his gaze, meaning she knew something he didn't.

He snaps his attention back to Hastings when he sees she is still refusing to look at him, "You're taking me off the case?"

"Don't make this harder than it is, son," Hastings growls. Liz can see him straining to remain calm (if that's what you could call it).

"Harder than protecting a former Chief Super who just happens to be a mason?"

There is a silence in the room after Steve says that. Liz frowns, _what does he mean? Is he accusing my godfather of being a freemason?_

Steve watches as Hastings' eyes flick to Lizzie's, then return to him, darkening. Steve also turns back to the young woman, his nerves numbing as he sees the confusion on her face.

"You are way out of line," Hastings growls.

Steve turns back to the older man, too infuriated to keep Lizzie in the dark about his suspicions, "I saw your handshake."

Ted glares at him, voice low, "You do not know the first thing-"

"I know you're trying to take me off a case that involves senior officers covering up child abuse!" Steve shouts, making Liz jump.

"The evidence against you is more than just planting evidence, Steve!" Hastings rebukes, immediately regretting his outburst and rising to the younger man's anger.

Steve turns to Lizzie, having heard her sigh, seeing her shake her head and twist her hands together. He raises a brow, willing her to look at him and explain.

He swallows at her blank expression. _What evidence?_ _What does everyone know that I don't?_

"Be in the meeting room in ten minutes," Hastings instructs, voice once again low.

Steve is unable to say anything, confused. He hastily leaves the room, not bothering to look back into Lizzie's direction, assuming she will just ignore him again.

Liz remains standing in the corner of the office, watching him go and slam the door behind him. Hastings reaches for his phone, muttering something about calling Gill.

She had hoped they would have more time. That she would find some sort of evidence to prove him innocent before they suspended him. But Steve had to go and be a stubborn fool and provoke it. There was little she could do now but hope they found something before his hearing.

Her stomach falls as she thinks of how he will react.

Will he blame her? For not telling him? For ignoring him? For not doing enough to help? For not doing her job? For not being a good friend?

She needs to find Steve, to explain herself. It was all about to come out anyway, how would she be putting the investigation at any more risk?

Moving hastily across the office and out of the door, Liz scans the room for any sign of him - but he is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps, he has gone to the meeting room early, needing time to himself to think things over. Yes, that was worth a try.

Almost running in the direction of the room, she is stopped by Kate coming over to her. She no doubt just heard and saw Steve storm out of the office and has now spotted her trying to chase after him.

"Liz? What's going on?"

Liz pauses, turning to the woman, "Hastings has called a meeting with Steve and Gill. He's being suspended."

Kate sighs, looking over to the entrance of the office where Gill Biggeloe has just appeared. Hastings passes them, talking briefly to the woman before leading her into the room where Steve was likely already waiting.

There was nothing Liz could do now but wait for the meeting to be over.

"Come on," Kate gestures for ehr to follow with her head, "Let's get a brew."

Liz glances concernedly over at the meeting room door as it closes shut. She huffs, her stomach twisting as she hesitantly follows after her friend to the small kitchenette.

* * *

A few minutes later, sitting beside Kate at her desk with an untouched cup of tea, Liz startles as the meeting room door opens. Sitting straighter in hopes someone would inform her of what is transpiring, she watches as Hastings appears, calling across the room for Dot.

Liz twists in her seat to watch as the man stands from his desk, straightening his tie, anxiously. She assumes Steve has worked out who has made the allegations, and requested for the man to be present. As he passes to follow after the Superintendent, Dot sends her a deplorable stare, his mouth opening as if he wants to say something. She looks away, the look breaking her heart, Dot feigning confidence as he enters the room out of sight.

Liz looks over to Kate, who continues her work as if nothing is going on. _How can she just sit there while their best friend is being accused and punished for something so outrageous?_

Feeling Liz's glare burn the side of her face, Kate turns to the other woman.

"You know it isn't him," Liz insists, her tone almost spiteful.

Kate shakes her head, stubborn and shocked to see such a heated look from her friend, "I don't know."

Liz groans, quietly, looking back to the meeting room. The small part of her gut telling her there _is_ a chance as suggested by the mounting evidence, no matter how unbelievable, infuriating her.

Attempting to take a sip of her tea, despite feeling too nauseous to enjoy it, Liz almost chokes as Gill and Dot reappear, talking between themselves as they reenter the desk space. Gill says one last thing, inaudible to Liz who sits so far away, before walking off in the direction of the lfit. Dot stands there for a moment, loosening his tie before glancing over to Kate's desk. His mouth twists, awkwardly, as he shuffles over, aware of all the eyes on him - most poignantly Liz.

"What happened?" she asks as soon as he has approached, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Dot looks back to the room with a gloomy stare before looking down at her. Her stomach falls deeper.

Before the man has a chance to answer, shouting is heard from the room, whipping their attention over to the door.

Steve emerges, his face fuming. His eyes scan over the desks and all the faces now turned toward him, frenzied. Catching eyes with Liz, her breath hitches as they only stare at each other. She can't tell what he is thinking. A storm of emotions clouds his face. Regret, confusion, _anger_ \- but not guilt. Liz can't see it. Not out of refusal, but genuity.

Suddenly, his demeanour changes. Steve's fists clench. His shoulders shake. His face reddens. Rage.

He twists on his heel towards the exit.

Liz finds herself jumping out of her seat, making a move to follow after him. A hand encloses its way around her wrist before she can pass the desks, Liz not bothering to look back at who it is, only staring at Steve's retreating back.

She calls out for him, he ignores her.

Then, twisting her arm to face whoever was holding her back, she sneers at Dot, "Let me go after him. He needs me."

Dot shakes his head, looking at her pleadingly as he forcefully, but not aggressively, tugs her wrist so she is pulled closer towards him, "Don't make a scene."

"But we have to help him," she cries, quietly, looking back to Steve who is entering the lift. His back is still to the office, hunched over, furiously defeated.

"If you want to help, we need to let things play out," Dot says in her ear. Liz watches as the lift doors close and Steve disappears from view.

She shrinks into herself, giving into Dot's pull. She leans into his outstretched arm that was now wrapping around her with a slight squeeze. Liz's arms drop at her side, tired. At this point, she is almost relying on Dot to keep her standing. The last few days since returning from her trip had been exhausting. And it wasn't over. He holds her, looking worriedly to the crowd of faces turned to them, before leading her to her own office.

Kate also strides over, concerned for her friend and closing the door behind them.

Liz falls into one of the seats, her elbows landing on her knees and placing her head in her hands. Kate kneels in front of her, sharing a bothered glance with Dot who moves to lean against the wall.

"I don't want it to be him," Kate says, catching Liz's eye as they begin to cloud over with exhausted tears, "I don't."

"But we can't ignore the facts," Dot insists.

"I know," Liz mutters, sniffing and lifting her head to look at them both, "I know. It's just hard to believe."

Kate looks at her, carefully, almost willing Liz to cry and let it out for once. It was understandable, her best friend was accused of being one of the biggest threats to the security of the force. Of course, Kate often believed it was more than that between them - the pair too stupidly stubborn to admit it. But the fact remains, they are close. Steve was now even closer to Liz than she was, with her almost always with her family or undercover. Liz had fought for him and his place in AC-12 many times, ever since the beginning when Steve was transferred. She even convinced him this _was his_ place, back when things looked bleak in the Tony Gates case. To learn there was a chance he had conned them all, played a game all this time - it was, well, unbelievable.

She knew, when Dot told her of his suspicions, that this would break Liz. It was her first thought. Kate was struggling herself. Sure, she has been furious with Steve lately because of him not being able to keep it in his pants leading to a humiliating drawback with Denton, despite all their warnings. But he was still her colleague, her _friend_. Does she think he is capable? No. Does she know, from her years in AC-12, that anyone is capable of anything? Yes.

This was her job. To create links, find suspects, gather evidence and see investigations through. That was how she was coping. Liz did not have the same luxury. If anything, her job was the opposite. She is no doubt beating herself up for not understanding and not knowing how to help. That was the kind of person her friend was. Affectionate and loyal to a fault. She always warned that woman would kill herself with her own kindness, one day.

Now? Liz was in pain. She can see it.

"We will get to the bottom of this," Kate assures, placing a strong hand on the other woman's knee. _For you_ , she thinks, though it goes unsaid.

Liz looks into her eyes, seeing the meaning behind them. She allows herself to smile slightly, relieved by the woman's sincerity.

The two women nod at each other.

Dot watches on. Afraid.


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another quick chapter to set up some of the longest and most complex I have written! I hope you all enjoy it and I would LOVE to hear your thoughts and feedback!

"Oh, hey," Liz smiles as she opens her flat door, though is confused by the man's appearance.

"Hey," Dot smiles back, slightly awkward but nevertheless charming, "Sorry, I would have called but we were passing by anyway…"

"Don't worry about it," she dismisses, opening the door wider for him to enter, "Everything alright?"

He nods, sheepishly, which worries her, "Yeah, yeah, uh… Sorry about everything. I know this must be hard."

Liz folds her arms, shifting uncomfortably, "Well, the sooner we find evidence the sooner we prove him innocent."

She watches as Dot winces at her determined, if somewhat futile, tone. Her stomach twists, uneasily.

"So why are you here?" she asks, hoping it comes off as polite.

He hesitates, "We have something-"

"Who's 'we'?"

"Kate's in the car outside," he explains, "We have something you might want to see."

"So what is it you want to show me?" Liz asks from the passenger seat, Dot drives beside her and Kate sits in the back.

Her gut is aching, unsure if she even wants to know. SHe can only assume she knows what - or who - this is about. He had been ignoring her calls over the past twenty-four hours since his suspension.

Dot remains quiet, focussed on the road, prompting Kate to answer, "We've been doing some surveillance."

"On Steve, I am guessing?"

Kate hums, the dissatisfied noise echoing tauntingly in Liz's chest. _Oh no_.

"Where are we? Where is he?"

Kate' eyes flick to Dot who turns to Liz as he pulls the car over. They park on the side of the road, across from a park.

Liz looks around, unsure why they are here. It seems familiar, only being a few roads away, "Danny Waldron's flat is just up there."

She gestures to the road, though it seems the two others in the car already knew that.

She turns to them, seeing their eyes fixated on something through the other side window. Leaning forward slightly to follow their gaze, she almost immediately retracts.

There is Steve… with _Lindsay Denton_.

Dot turns to her, hearing the woman gasp. His eyes are apologetic as he watches her mind run with thoughts, her brow furrowing in confusion and realisation.

"We thought you should see for yourself."

"But-" Liz begins, choking on the harsh words cutting her throat, "What is he-"

"Told you we needed to keep an eye on him," Dot says, looking back out the window himself.

Liz can only gape as she glares at the pair. Lindsay stands beside him as they talk. There seems to be little tension between them, the two discussing something with ease. Liz's heart twists.

He had been ignoring her all day. And all that time he had been with _her_.

She doesn't know what to say. Nor what to think, even.

_Other than Steve is the dumbass she always knew he was; what did this mean?_

"Looks like that lead we have on him is going to pan out," Dot mumbles, turning back to the two women in the car, "He really did plant that money at Denton's."

"What lead?" Liz challenges, her voice fiercer than she intended. He had mentioned a lead on this before, said they had evidence. But never told her what. How was she supposed to believe it?

"I really can't tell you, yet," Dot sighs, looking away from her again, "I wish I could."

"Poor bastard," Kate says, seeming to be going along with it, surrendering.

Liz stays quiet, still refusing. It just doesn't make sense.

_What is he playing at?_

Yet again, he has ignored her advice and made things worse for himself. She is unsure how she can help him after this. It seemed for Dot, and even Kate, this was it. He had something to hide.

It burns her chest that Liz supposes it could be true. If Steve can hide something from her, he could be hiding anything from anyone.

Liz glares through the car window at the small figures of Steve and Denton. She can feel bile rise in her throat as the pair walk together, still discussing whatever the hell it was they were up to. She had hoped to never see that woman's cruel face again. Yet here she was, with Steve. _Why?_

After a moment, they split up, with Steve going one way and Denton the other. They both disappear from view.

"I want to go home," she says, almost in a whisper.

Kate looks over the seat at her, eyes wide and sympathetic. Dot turns too, nodding gently as the woman beside him throws her head to face forward, wrapping her jacket around herself tighter, protectively. He can see tears begin to form in her eyes. She was overwhelmed.

"I'll go after Steve," Kate says, her voice as low as the mood in the car.

"Good, I'll keep on Denton after I drop her off home," Dot nods, glancing at Liz before looking over his shoulder at Kate, "You alright to walk it?"

"That twat won't see me," she bites, "And if he does, well, he has it coming."

If it were not for the sniffling young woman at his side, Dot would chuckle at the other woman's threat as she gets out of the car.

Slowly pulling the car away, Dot turns his hand with his palm now facing upward where it rests near the gear-stick. Liz looks over at it, attention caught by the movement, reaching over to take it. Her urge to cry diminishes slightly at the contact, appreciating the coolness of his hand, which reduces the fire of confusion in her stomach.

The short ride home is silent. Both their minds running with thoughts.

All Liz knows for sure is, throughout all of this, she is glad Dot is there for her. He had proved himself to be a good friend, having dealt with all this in the most sensitive way he could. He knew how difficult this must be for her, and had only gone about it with that in mind. Despite this being his biggest case yet, he had not been thinking of himself, only her. Dot was kind and he was selfless. Exactly the person she needed beside her during a time like this.

He wasn't Steve. But that also meant he wasn't letting her down. He was there for her. She was grateful for that.

Liz had wanted to come home; have time alone with herself to think. But all she had been doing the last few weeks was _think_. About Steve, in particular. Maybe it would be nice to unload it all to someone she now trusted. Especially someone who understood her situation. Hopefully one day she could repay the favour, if he needed it.

"Do you want to come in?" Liz asks him when they pull up outside her apartment building, hoping she does not sound as eager as she is.

The corners of his mouth twitch upward, but he shakes his head, much to her disappointment, "I need to get back, follow Denton."

"Of course, yeah," Liz shakes her head, embarrassed.

She moves to leave the car, feeling him pull her jacket sleeve before she can.

"I forgot," he says once he has her attention. She watches as he reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out an envelope, "This was on your doorstep. Nearly tripped over it when I came by."

Her throat dries at the sight of it. She knows what it is.

He holds it out to her, Liz feeling the tear she had just tried so hard to fight back re-emerge and blur her vision.

She tries to say something. She doesn't know what. Maybe confess everything to him. He could help.

Snatching it from his hand, she hurriedly leaves the vehicle with a quick goodbye.

Liz can feel the protruding shape inside, queasing at it.

Dot watches her enter her building, perturbed, before pulling away. He needed to find Lindsay Denton. It was time to finish this.

* * *

A few hours later, Liz receives another knock on her door. With three paws now stashed in her drawer, Liz panics at the sound. One paw left, she had bitterly laughed at, too many thoughts exhausting her to process it properly.

Moving from her place on the sofa, where she had been huddled with a blanket, willing the tear that seemed so anxious to fall to do just that and let her rest, Liz shuffles over to the door.

Opening it slightly, she peers through the crack.

"Dot?"

"Hope I'm not intruding," he says, seeming to be out of breath. Liz doesn't question it, just opens her door wider to invite him in.

He moves past her, running a hand through his hair. He is breathing, hard. She watches his eyes dart about the room, as if in a frenzy, before calming as they settle back on her.

"Are you alright?" she asks, stepping closer and holding out a hand to place gently on his arm. She retracts it when he flinches.

He seems to realise his mistake, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. The man almost immediately relaxes, his shoulders dropping and his breath evening out. Though, she notes the small, wild glint in his eye.

"Dot?" she asks, worried, once he has regained some sort of composure.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, her moving closer at his broken voice, "I'm sorry."

"For what? Doing your job?"

"No, not that. For-" he pauses, as if he was going to say something but decides against it, eyes widening in horror of whatever he was about to admit, "For all of it."

Despite his earlier protest, she steps closer, enveloping him in her arms. Wrapping her arms around his waist, burying her head into his chest, she holds back a sigh as she feels his arms encircle her shoulders. Dot rests his chin on the top of her head, tightening his hold on her for a while.

Neither of them speak. Just revel in each other's embrace.

Liz allows herself a small smile. They had both been under so much stress, the last few days in particular. They both just needed time.

She twists her neck to look up at him, too content to ease her grip on him. He looks down at the same time. They stand there like that for a while, just looking at the other, feeling them.

Liz cannot help but think of Steve, to her chagrin. He had never held her like this, or comforted her in this way.

Would he ever? Now that he was the main suspect, accused of being a criminal mastermind infiltrator - Liz wants to cackle at the idea of it. It all still sounded so outrageously ridiculous.

But what she had seen today; him and Denton, that worried her. She had warned him time and time again - and yet every time, Steve seemed to ignore her.

Did he really care so little for her insight? For her opinion? For _her?_

Liz shudders, Dot holding her a little closer without knowing the reason.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?"

She feels the man shake his head above hers.

"Is there anything I can do?"

She feels his chest rise quickly in a humourless chuckle. His head moves downward, looking at the smaller woman in his arms.

"You're doing enough."

She has never heard or seen him this vulnerable. Liz does not know what has happened, and can only assume it is a culmination of things, but she feels a strange sense of honour that she is the one he came to.

Turning her head again to gaze up at the much taller man, she notices a speck of red staining his white collar. Moving her hand from around his waist to reach up for it, she notices Dot's grip on her slacken as he realises it too.

She holds the collar between her fingertips, inspecting it, "Is that blood?"

She can practically hear Dot's heart quicken from their close proximity. He only stares at her, blankly.

Liz moves her fingers to the side of his face, delicately placing them to the side of his jaw where his wound from Hari Baines still blemishes his skin. One of the stitches looks torn. The skin beneath it had almost healed, no blood to be seen. But that must be where the blood came from.

She hears his deep exhale of breath as she walks away, turning on her tap and wetting some kitchen roll. Walking back over with the wet cloth, she feels him tense again under her touch as she dabs lightly against the bruise.

Once again, like at the warehouse, his hand comes to rest upon hers. It is shaking slightly, though it relaxes once it melds with hers. She looks to it, seeing the slightest hint of blood crusted on his fingernails. Liz does not question it, assuming he must have scraped the wound, and more distracted by how nice the touch feels.

"You alright, Queenie?" Dot asks, quietly, his breath cool against her forehead.

"Yeah," she mumbles, stroking her thumb lightly over his cheek, "You?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Liz receives a call from Kate the next morning. _Lindsay Denton is dead._

"How?"

"Shot dead in a car," Kate's voice says on the other end, "Steve's car."

Liz shakes her head, face and voice blanks as she tries to comprehend it all, "He's not that stupid."

"Isn't he?" Kate scoffs.

Liz feels her blood begin to boil. She was sick of it. All of it.

"What happens now?" she says, running a tired hand down her face with a sigh.

"We have him located. Dot is on his way to do the arrest."

Well, at least there is that. Dot will take it easy on Steve, she hopes. She had offered for him to stay that night as it was so late when he turned up, so he slept on her sofa. The man had left before she woke up that morning, leaving a note to let her know he would see her at work.

"When are you bringing him in?"

Kate hums, unsure, "Tomorrow, most likely."

Liz shudders at the idea of him in a cell overnight.

To anyone else, Kate may sound indifferent, if not, glad. But Liz can hear the way her voice breaks as she speaks. She is clearly just as devastated.

Liz nods, swallowing her sadness, "I'll be there."

* * *

"Beth?" Ted asks, closing her office door behind him, "How are you holding up?"

Liz looks up at her godfather, her face blank. Ted winces. She looks as though she hasn't slept, her eyes slightly wild and dark, rather than their usual bright serenity.

"I want to be there," she states.

He knows what she is asking, or rather _demanding_.

Hastings sighs, "I don't think that would be appropriate-"

"I am his counsellor," she claims, confidently, though her voice is just as blank as her expression, "Just as I was Lindsay Denton's. My client needs me. I should be there."

Hastings closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling.

"Ok," he relents, finding it difficult not to when she looks so forlorn, "Only if you're sure."

"I am," she lies, Ted seeing the first break in her façade as her eye twitches.

He looks out the glass panel of her office, seeing the lift doors open. The older man tenses as he sees DS Steve Arnott being led through by two armed officers, in a prison sweatshirt and handcuffs.

His sharp intake of breath catches her attention, Liz not hesitating to stand so she can see herself. Following his gaze, she sees him.

Her heart shatters.

He looks tired. Weary. Weak.

She is sure she does not look much better.

Hastings waits for Kate to make the first move, walking over to where Steve stood with the officers, leading them into the interview room. Liz cannot see the expression on either of their faces, both of them walking in the opposite direction.

But that image. Of Steve, _her_ Steve, in handcuffs being led into their own office by armed officers - she would lose sleep over it. Well, _more_ sleep.

The Superintendent pats her on the shoulder, in the most comforting way he can muster, like he did when she was a child, "Ready?"

Liz can only nod once, her head aching more fervently than it had before.

They walk to the interview room together, seeing the back of Steve sitting next to his solicitor. Opposite, Kate and Dot are already waiting, shuffling awkwardly through their documents and files as they await the arrival of their superior.

Hastings sends her one last glance before opening the door, Steve immediately turning to look up at the new arrivals. Liz tries to ignore the way his eyes widen at the sight of her. He shifts in his seat as she looks ahead to the chair Dot is pulling up for her beside him at the end of the table.

Once Hastings and Liz are seated, her trying her best to ignore the way Steve's gaze is burning into her skull on one side and Dot sending her a troubled look on the other, the interview begins. She looks down to the file on the desk in front of her, Steve's name printed clearly on the front where the suspect identification should be.

The room almost shakes with tension as the recorder beeps, marking the beginning of Steve Arnott's suspect interview.


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter for you! I hope you all enjoy this as we approach the end of season three. I am trying to make interrogation scenes more interesting than just copying the dialogue word for word from the show!
> 
> thank you to everyone for reading, especially those that take the time to comment and leave feedback, it really does means o much to me and keep me going!

Hastings clears his throat before he begins, no doubt feeling the pressure pushing at them all, "DS Arnott, can you account for your whereabouts between 0800 and 1200 hours on July the 17th of this year?"

Steve winces at Hastings' solemn tone. This was not his usual, cocksure attitude he used during interrogations.

He never thought he would be on this side of the table. He shouldn't be.

"I was at home," he states.

"This would be your home address, flat five at Kings Gate apartments?" Kate asks, having to despite the fact she knows it well.

Steve shakes his head, disbelieving what is happening, "Yes."

"Who were you with?" Hastings asks, tone still low.

Steve's eyes flick to Liz, who is still focussed on the files in front of her. He can feel himself sweat, "Between those hours I was alone."

"And your girlfriend, DS Samantha Railston, where was she?" Kate questions.

"Sam left early for work around 06:30," he explains, sadly, "I was alone in the flat but I made phone calls. They'll prove where I was."

He can see Liz shift from the corner of his eye. She sighs, quietly, having seen a notification of a missed call from him this morning. Liz had ignored it, too distracted by the news of Denton's passing and knowing he was to be arrested and unlikely to return it. She only prays that is not what it comes down to; him being implemented because she did not answer to validate his alibi.

Kate nods, pressing a button on the tablet device so an image appears on the screen behind Liz, "Document three in your folders. Document three is a photocopy of item reference ASJ13, telecommunications record for mobile telephone 079591152425 registered to Steven Arnott. Four calls are shown."

Liz looks at the image, seeing her name and number listed between multiple calls to Lindsay Denton and the AC-12 switchboard.

"Can you tell us what was happening with these calls?" Ted asks.

She feels Steve look at her again, but instead decides to study the image.

"I'd realised Lindsay had stolen my pocket book," Steve explains, "I called her from my flat but it went straight to voicemail. I then tried Elizabeth-"

Liz winces at his formal use of her name, despite knowing it is purely for the tape and not out of malice.

"-but it also went to voicemail."

"Why did you call Miss Thornton?" Dot asks, glancing between the man on the other side of the table and woman beside him.

Steve sighs, playing with his hands nervously, "I had drank some wine. Admittedly, I don't know. Suppose I was feeling sorry for myself and needed a friend."

Dot hums, seeing Liz not quite satisfied at that answer.

"Continue," Hastings instructs.

"When I couldn't get hold of Lindsay, I went to her current residence. But she wasn't there. So I tried calling her again."

"And the call to the AC-12 switchboard?"

"To report the theft of my service vehicle," he states.

Liz wonders if he is telling the truth, or if the call was just a ploy to cover up his whereabouts and being with Denton. She was found dead in _his_ car, after all. If it was stolen, that would suggest someone else was guilty of her murder.

"When was the last time you saw Lindsay Denton alive?"

She takes in a deep breath as she waits for his answer.

"The night before. My flat."

Liz resists shaking her head. He invited her into _his flat?_

Dot tries to share a disbelieving glance with her, one she tries to ignore. Liz risks a look in Steve's direction, seeing him forcing his eyes forward as to not meet hers.

He continues to explain himself, "Lindsay had a theory that Danny Waldron left a list of abusers in the graveyard. We were searching online burial records for a name that might have been a memorable association for Danny. She left my flat and I went to the graveyard alone. Must have been while she was in my flat that she took my pocket book."

Kate speaks next, "At this time, myself and DI Cottan were carrying out direct surveillance on Steve Arnott's flat, authorised by Superintendent Hastings under the Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act 2000. We were also accompanied partly by Miss Thornton, who has been recorded as a civilian witness."

Liz tenses as Steve whips his head to her, eyes widening, sorrowfully.

"Now we saw you and Lindsay split up," Dot begins, "Then after you'd left, Lindsay looked like the cat who'd got the cream. She sent you off on a wild goose chase while she went and cracked the case."

"'Cause actually, Danny had hidden the list online," Kate finishes.

Steve's face contorts into an expression of shock, "She found the list?"

"She did indeed," Hastings confirms, "I've gotta hand it to her, she got the job done."

Liz's heart aches for Steve.

"She made a total mug of you," Dot quips, Liz snapping her head to him with a frown. He looks back at her and shrugs slightly, before turning back to Steve, "And these phone calls we've been talking about, they're all around noon onwards."

Liz frowns again. But Steve had called her last night? She looks back to the telecommunications log, now noticing the times of the other calls he made were, as Dot said, much earlier.

"None of it corroborates you were in your flat before that time," Dot challenges, continuing confidently. "The proprietor of the internet café, now she reckons she saw Denton leave around 11, 11.30. She didn't see where Denton went or who she met. And we've no information on her whereabouts 'till her body was discovered at 12.30."

"But you were at home all that time?" Hastings asks Steve.

"Yes, sir."

"So what were you doing all this time?" Dot once again questions.

Steve hesitates. Liz cringes.

"DS Arnott?" Ted prompts.

"I slept," Steve says, defeatedly, knowing it was not a good alibi.

"You had a kip?" Dot mocks, "Seriously?"

"I'd been up most of the night."

"You didn't think of calling her straight away?" Hastings raises a brow.

"No, sir."

"She sent you to this graveyard on a fool's errand, stolen your pocket book."

Dot nods, "I would have been after her like a shot. You, you're stuck to your sofa watching Homes Under The Hammer."

Liz would have snickered if it were not Steve Arnott that DOt was wittily berating.

Steve stares back at the man, face blank.

He sighs, knowing he needs to explain himself, "I got home late. Sam…My girlfriend and I, we had a row. I had some wine and I fell asleep on the sofa."

"And that's when you called Liz?" Dot asks.

Steve looks over to her, their eyes meeting for the first time that day. She looks tired, just as he is. His chest pulls tighter.

"Yes," he says, keeping her stare, "Like I said, Sam was mad at me and I had been drinking and I-"

She watches as he swallows, eagerly waiting for his response.

"And?" Dot prompts.

"And I just wanted to talk to someone who would listen," he finally admits, quietly, his gaze now shifting down to the table in front of him.

Liz tries her best to stay neutral, though inside her nerves are screaming. If only she had answered that call. She worries, thinking Steve probably thinks she ignored it purposely. That she has turned her back on him, as everyone else has. She feels sick with guilt.

She blushes as she feels everyone but Steve's eyes on her.

"I overslept," Steve says as if trying to take the attention away from her again, "As soon as I realised my pocket book was gone, I took action."

"Still," Dot says, casually, "you were sorely pissed off with Denton, weren't you?"

"DS Arnott is simply stating the facts," Steve's solicitor warns.

"Oh, right," Dot gibes, "So you _weren't_ pissed off with her?"

Steve remains quiet, probably for the best.

"In the early hours of the 17th, I followed Mr Arnott to the graveyard of Saint Barnabas Church, in which he stated, " _If there is no list here, then Lindsay's going to get what's coming",_ " Kate then reads.

Liz starts to pick at her fingers, frustrated at how this was turning out.

"Can you tell us what you meant by those words?" Hastings asks as Steve looks between them, dismally.

He shakes his head, "I was angry. Angry with Kate, angry with Lindsay, angry at-"

His eyes fall on Liz, then flick to Dot before looking back to her for a moment. Liz shrinks, guilty.

"Angry at all of it."

Hastings sighs, "But you do admit that you were angry at Lindsay?"

Dot scoffs, "Oh, those words go way beyond angry."

Steve seems rattled by the man's accusatory tone, glaring at him with a sneer, "I didn't kill Lindsay."

Dot lets out a sceptical huff. Liz would otherwise chide him for such cockiness, especially against their friend. She knows the men did not exactly get along well, but they were usually civil enough with each other without animosity. But Dot was not forcing this upon Steve as some sort of revenge or malice, he was just doing his job. So Liz, knowing it is not her place and cannot be shown to be picking sides, especially in a recorded interview, stays quiet.

"At her trial, Lindsay testified that there was a sexual relationship between you," Kate provokes as Steve shakes with anger, "The relevant transcript documentation is document 46."

"I don't need a transcript," Steve demands, humiliated by the situation, "She was lying."

Kate continues, unbothered, "Data retrieval from Lindsay's mobile resulted in detection of the following file, item reference MKJ32. For the tape, I will now play MKJ32.

Liz feels like her gut is on fire. She almost wants to cover her ears, or leave the room entirely. Instead, she shifts in her seat, looking pointedly to her fingers where she continues to pick her cuticles in an attempt to distract herself.

She feels Dot slowly reach out under the table, placing his hand over hers to stop her before she hurts herself. Liz does not look up at him as he does that, not wanting anyone to notice. Turning her palm upward, she takes his hold.

She wishes she could find comfort in it, but instead, without the ability to fiddle, it almost forces her to listen.

The recording begins.

Her hand tightens under Dot's at the sound of heavy breathing resounding in the room.

" _Is that ok?_ " Steve's breathy voice can be heard.

" _Yeah_ ," Liz shudders at Denton's equally sensual tone.

Then a few more breaths, almost grunts.

Lindsay moans.

The recording ends.

"You recognise the voices on this audio file?" Hastings asks before the awkwardness is allowed to linger more than it has too.

Liz almost feels as though she is gagging on the suffocatingly thick tension in the air. Dot releases his grip slightly, but their fingers remain entwined, resting on his knee where no one can see them.

"Me and Lindsay," Steve mutters, his face blushing furiously.

"And can you tell us where the recording was made?"

"In her bedroom."

Liz dares to raise her gaze, finding Steve's eyes already on her. Her face burns, cheeks undoubtedly flamed. She snaps hers away again before she can read whatever look he was trying to send her.

She instead looks down the table to the three investigators sat opposite him, noting their equally as mortified expressions. Kate, in particular, clears her throat, embarrassed.

"And were you aware at the time this recording was being made?"

"No, sir," Steve murmurs, humiliated, "I wasn't."

His solicitor pipes up, then, "As DS Arnott didn't give his permission, the recording was illegal."

"Still, it's not a nice thing to do to someone, that," Dot provokes, "Just another thing she did to put a few more winds on your clock, eh?"

Liz releases his hand at that, irritated by his taunting.

Though, he made a fair point.

"Time and _time_ again you denied any impropriety," Hastings stresses, disappointed.

"What you can't know is we're both almost fully clothed, and the file's been abridged," Steve tries to argue. Liz can feel him looking at her as he says this, as if imploring _her_ to believe him. Her hairs stand on end.

He hears Steve sigh, no doubt bothered she can't even look at him. He continues, now turning back to the three investigators, "If you'd had the opportunity to continue listening, you would've heard that we stopped through mutual consent."

"Stopped what?" the Superintendent drawls.

Steve once again hesitates, the tips of his ears searing.

"There was some kissing, some touching. Lindsay became upset and I comforted her, sir," his eyes once again find their way over to the young woman sat at the end of the table, looking devastated to her feet, "I swear, you have my word, Lindsay Denton and I did not have sex."

" _Your word_ ," Hastings scoffs, voicing what Liz was, regrettably, thinking.

How could he be so stupid? He had confessed this to her before but now, _hearing_ it - it hurt. It was suddenly dawning on her how serious these accusations and this evidence were. This stupid mistake - and several others he had made - were going to lead to severe consequences. If only he had listened to her.

"Look, whatever your version is of that audio file," Dot says, "it sounds like you pair went way beyond the professional. And then she used it to discredit your case against her. Now, I don't know many blokes who wouldn't be angry about that."

Steve sends the man a harsh glare as Dot continues, "And thanks to her accusations you were suspended, your career potentially in ruins. Your relationships."

Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze once again involuntarily glancing to Liz. HIs heart breaks as he looks at her, sitting timidly, wincing at almost every word.

"Now for the tape," Dot goes on, "on screen is image five. Image five is a crime scene photograph taken at 12:45 on July 17th showing the body of Lindsay Denton."

Liz refuses to look up at it. Her hands grip anxiously to the sides of her seat. Her shoulders tense as she looks over to Steve instead, his body physically recoiling as he looks at the image.

"Image eight," Dot announces as he swipes on the tablet device.

"That's my car-," Steve says, disbelieving.

"Image eight is a crime scene photograph showing the vehicle in which Lindsay Denton's body was found."

Liz watches as Steve's face contorts into one of confusion. This whole time he had seemed more disappointed and embarrassed, but this was different.

Did he not know? That his car was where Lindsay was killed? He had reported it stolen, right? Maybe, if he had no idea of this evidence, he was telling the truth. It had been stolen. Someone else was the murderer.

Liz knows Steve Arnott. She knows when he is lying. His face now was not that.

"The vehicle is a dark grey Volvo C60."

"Do you agree it is your car?" Hastings asks.

Steve leans forward, folding his arms, "Like I said, sir, I reported my vehicle stolen."

"Document six in your folders," Kate instructs, "Document six is a photocopy of item reference IKL1. IKL1 is the log for service vehicles. On July 1st you signed out service vehicle Foxtrot Juliet One Four Romeo Charlie Zulu and it was never signed back in."

"You should've," Hastings berates, though his voice remains calm, "the second you were suspended."

"Well, it's a perk of the job, didn't want to give up the motor," Dot teases, to Liz's frustration.

Hastings sighs, linking his fingers, "So, it was a matter of fact that this video was in your possession at the time of the murder."

"The matter of fact, sir, is someone stole the vehicle," Steve insists.

"And you reported it stolen when?"

Steve hesitates, realising his mistake.

Kate speaks for him, referring to her notes, "In a call to the AC-12 switchboard at 11:59."

Dot hums, quirking a cocky brow, "But Lindsay Denton was last seen alive up to an hour earlier at the internet cafe. Now that is plenty of time for you to get home and report your car stolen."

"I reported the theft as soon as I realised," Steve argues, "The car must have been stolen earlier."

The three AC-12 investigators look between themselves, blankly. Liz feels her gut clench.

"I see," Hastings says, disbelieving.

"Document seven is a copy of the pathologist's report following a post-mortem examination of Lindsay Denton," Dot explains, Liz this time willing herself to look at the file, "The cause of death was a single gunshot wound to the head."

He swipes again on the tablet, Liz and Steve seeing this for the first time and both taking it all in, "Image six is a forensic photograph of item reference NJC4. Item NJC4 is a bullet found lodged in the passenger's side trim of service vehicle Foxtrot Juliet One Four Romeo Charlie Zulu. NJC4 has been identified as a nine by nineteen millimetre parabellum round."

Liz exhales at the overwhelming load of information. Her head hurts.

"Image 13 shows item reference SCS9," Dot continues, unrelenting, "SCS9 is a service issue firearm, Glock 17 pistol, serial number November Mike 8494748. The Glock 17 was found a short distance from the vehicle containing the body of Lindsay Denton."

Was that the gun Steve was carrying around the office the other day? She knows little about guns, never having completed the firearms course during training. But Liz hopes so. For Steve's sake.

"Document 11 also in your folders is the firearms issue log from South Ferry Armory," Kate begins, "You'll see a highlighted entry on the morning of July 13th relating to said Glock 17, serial number November Mike 8494748."

Liz looks to the file, seeing Steve's name and signature clearly imprinted on the top. _Christ._

"Said firearm was never returned," Kate says, shamefully.

"No," Steve asserts, "I returned my firearm a few days before Lindsay was murdered."

"Not according to these records," Hastings sighs.

"No," Steve says again, louder, "No, I returned it."

Liz sees the panic rising in his eyes as he jabs a finger at the table, "Ask the armoury, they'll confirm it."

Hastings leans forward, gesturing to the file, "It is here in black and white, son."

Steve shakes his head, incredulously. She can feel Dot glancing at her before he sits forward to make his next point. She recoils further into her seat.

"You always follow the regs when it comes to firearms?"

The man opposite them sits, quiet, knowing where this was going and likely regretting his every move. How did he get himself into this mess?

Dot, prompted by his silence, continues, "DS Arnott was seen bearing a firearm within this building that did not in my view meet satisfactory operational requirements."

Liz can only watch as Steve shakes his head more furiously, tightly folding his arms across his chest.

"On July 13th I gave DS Arnott a verbal warning that he was in breach of section seven of the 1968 Firearms Act," Dot explains, glaring at the other man.

Steve glares back, waiting a moment before speaking again, attempting to deflect the conversation and unable to defend himself, "What forensics do you have linking me to the crime scene?"

Dot huffs, "Your car, your gun. Well, I would say that's plenty."

"Were my fingerprints found on the gun?" Steve challenges, leaning forward.

"There were no fingerprints found on the firearm at all," Kate explains to him, "It appeared to have been wiped."

"Right," Steve shrugs, defensively, "So no prints."

Liz feels herself straighten slightly in her seat at this. Dot beside her reaches for a glass of water, sipping it quietly as Steve continues to defend himself.

"Lindsay Denton was shot at close range. The vehicle interior shows a substantial blood splatter pattern," Steve raises his voice as he proposes, "Did you find blood particles on me?"

Liz looks hopefully down the table to Hastings and Kate who look between each other quickly.

"At the time of Steve Arnott's arrest his clothing was seized for forensic examination," Kate explains, "There were no traces of blood or gunshot residue detected."

"Yeah but anyone with half a brain covered in blood and gunshot residue would know to dispose of his clothing," Dot chuckles, humorlessly, before Liz has the chance to feel excited at the possibility of evidence proving Steve innocent.

"So where's this clothing?" Steve frowns at him.

"You tell us."

The two men stare at each other again. The air is thick with distrust.

Steve throws his hands out, still fixated glaring at the other man, "Why would I shoot Lindsay in my own car? I know the forensics would be totally incriminating."

"Correct, they are."

"So I wouldn't have done it!" Steve shouts, teeth bared.

"Oh, come on," Ted sighs, to Liz's disappointment, the older man clearly distrusting the man, "You were on the end of your tether with Lindsay Denton. She betrayed you, she manipulated you and finally she discredited you. You weren't thinking straight!"

Liz winces at his impassioned tone. This was unlike Ted, who was usually so cool and collected in interviews. But with Steve being the one sitting across from them, it was personal this time. They were all feeling the heightened, heated emotions that were building and building, threatening to boil over.

"So I used my service issue firearm that I left at the scene?" Steve leans forward, scowling and voice raised, "And I used my registered service vehicle? I mean, that's just stupid!"

Dot huffs, "Arnott, you panicked! You left your bullet and the casing and you didn't do a good enough job of disposing the gun."

Liz watches as Steve visibly shakes with rage as Dot continues his fierce accusation, "Then you cobbled together some story about your motor benign nicked. In fact, the only thing you _didn't_ make a hash of was the bloodstained clothing."

Steve takes a deep, heavy breath, glaring, "That's not what happened."

The two men once again stare at each other, Liz finding her gaze flicking between them from where she sat at the end of the table. She almost wants to laugh at how well it visualises her position, torn between two men she has grown to care for and admire very much. Her head saying one thing, her heart saying the other.

Kate clears her throat, cutting through the tension, "Image 22 shows item reference EDC3, found in said service vehicle."

"Can you tell us what Item EDC3 is?" Hastings asks of Steve as they all turn to look at the picture.

"My pocket book."

"And is that the one stolen by Lindsay?"

"Yes, sir."

"So you went after her to get it back," Dot suggests, "and things got out of hand, and in your panic you didn't even remember to take it."

"I didn't take it because I wasn't there!" Steve yells.

"Yes," Hastings says, ruefully, "so you've said."

Steve deflates. Liz's heart breaks. She knows how much Steve has come to respect Hastings, the Superintendent's opinion of him mattering more than it should (Liz remembers smacking a note of how this perhaps links to his parent's apparent lack of care or interest, and Steve's constant drive for approval) It seems cruel now). Hearing the disappointment and disbelief in his voice must be tearing him apart.

"Is there anyone - _anyone_ \- who will bear witness to the fact that you were at home at the time of Lindsay Denton's murder?" Hastings prompts.

Steve's eyes flick to Liz, who gazes back remorsefully. If only she had answered his call.

He fails to reply with a cohesive answer.

"I had my issues with Lindsay Denton," Steve begins, voice now lower, "I can't deny that. But I wouldn't kill her."

"So you've said."

Steve's head snaps back to Dot at his comment. Liz expects him to start yelling again, with the way he scowls again. But he maintains his composure enough to respond.

"I didn't have that gun," he says, "So if I returned it, why didn't anyone try and recover it?"

He looks between the three AC-12 officers across the table. They shift in their seats, awkwardly.

Liz sits straighter, turning to look at them herself, eagerly expectant for an answer.

"DS Arnott's asked a very important question," Steve's solicitor prompts when no one speaks.

There is another short silence before Ted speaks, not looking up at the man, "Yes, well, I admit there was a failure to do due diligence on the part of the harvesters at South Ferry Armoury but I have written to the Strategic Arms Commander making my feelings on the matter abundantly clear and I can assure you disciplinary action will-"

"No one realise because I _had_ returned the fire-arm!" Steve shouts, looking between them, desperately, "Someone must have access to the booking out forms and replaced the real one, the one showing I surrendered the firearm, with a forgery!"

Dot huffs out a disbelieving laugh. Liz turns to him, brows turned upward in questioning. Was Steve suggesting someone was setting him up? She knows Dot needs a conviction after such a bold accusation against one of their own, but surely they need to look into this?

It was hard to believe, yes. But not unbelievable.

"Yes, but this same someone would have to have signed out the same gun that was used in the murder and where is the record of that?" Hastings appeals.

"It's the same thing, sir, _stolen_ so no one has got track of who's got the weapon," Steve bites back.

Hastings looks down to the desk, mouth turned upward in mistrust, "Alright, let me get this straight, DS Arnott, what you're saying is some imposter acquired the firearm and then tampered with the paperwork to cover his tracks?"

"Yes, sir," Steve argues, "Obviously the same person who stole my service vehicle that morning."

"So, your defence is; 'it wasn't me, it was just some random imposter'," Dot quips.

Even Liz has to admit, it sounded suspicious and lacked credibility.

"No," Steve snarls, "Not random. To know it's extremely difficult to steal a service issue firearm, but not actually all that difficult to fake the paperwork. That takes inside knowledge."

Liz shifts forward in her seat, sitting at the end of it, curious and eager to know more. To solve this. To end it.

"This was done by a police officer," Steve concludes, adamantly.

Dot shakes his head, "Oh, but apparently it's a piece of cake to steal a service issue vehicle fitted with deadlocks and an immobilizer?"

Liz deflates again. He makes another good point.

Steve seems to retract too.

"You have to admit," Ted says, quietly, "this all seems a bit far-fetched, son."

The younger man seems to think for a moment, eyes darting wildly across the table at the many documents and files strewn across it.

"There's a parallel on this case, sir," Steve suddenly states, gaining the curiosity of everyone in the room. He takes a breath before starting, "Ever since we started investigating Danny Waldron, first his shooting of Ronan Murphy, then Danny's murder. There have been holes that the evidence hasn't completely filled, one of which is the murder of PC Rod Kennedy."

Liz can sense Dot tensing, him turning to Hastings, "Sir, this is a massive tangent. DS Arnott knows we have to charge or release and he's playing for time."

"Sir," Steve insists he listens, "DI Cottan was too quick to close the investigation into Kennedy's murder."

Liz looks up at the man beside her, watching as Dot glares over at Steve, incredulous.

Steve does not relent, "Just like he was with his inquiry into The Caddy. He's doing the same here. He's cutting corners, not challenging evidence robustly and _I'm_ the one suffering for his negligence!"

Dot does not blink as he glowers at the man, "Sir, DS Arnott's casting aspersions for one reason and one reason only. To discredit this case. To get AC-12 taken off the investigation against him."

Liz turns away from Dot to see Hastings rubbing his hands together, anxiously agitated by their blunt bickering.

"See, it's what these coppers do when you know you've got 'em banged to rights," Dot claims, fiercely, "Exploit their knowledge of the system to try and tie us in knots."

Liz places her hand on the man's knee under the table, willing him to back down, even if only to spare Steve from his frustrations. Dot had warned her Steve was attempting to do this, turning it back on the DI.

It was a ridiculous accusation, one that only seemed desperate on Steve's part. But what exactly is the accusation? And what grounds does Steve have?

Liz has grown to care for the man beside her, who she feels relaxing into her touch. But part of her, a rather large one, is tempted to speak out of turn and ask Steve for an explanation.

"Look," Hastings says before she has a chance, waving a hand, "I'd be really grateful if we could just stick to the issue in hand here which is the murder of Lindsay Denton.

Dot clears his throat slightly as Liz lets go of her hold on him, the man swiping on the tablet to show another image, "Now, with respect to service vehicle Foxtrot Juliet One Four Romeo Charlie Zulu, a forensic search was carried out at the crime scene. Image 43, interior of service vehicle boot. Image 45 is item reference VCT7. Do you recognise VCT7?"

"My gym bag."

"Image 46 shows the content of VCT7, sports clothing and trainers," Dot explains, "Image 47-"

"That was not in my bag!" Steve suddenly yells as an image of a phone recovered from the bag is shown on screen. Liz catches eyes with the other woman, seeing Kate look over at her, blankly, but clearly expressing some sort of doubt.

Liz winces as Steve continues to shout, throwing his arms in the air, "What- what is going on here?"

She almost wants to cry as his voice cracks.

Ted holds out a warning hand, "DS Arnott, please."

Steve collapses into himself, raking a hand through his hair.

"Image 47," Dot continues, unbothered, "shows item reference VCT9. VCT9 is an unregistered pay as you go mobile phone."

"Your phone, DS Arnott?" Hastings asks.

"No, sir," Steve insists.

"No, sir?"

"Someone put that there."

Liz's heart aches. She knows Steve Arnott and she knows when he is lying. He has tried to do so to her so many times before. Quite frankly, he is bad at it. She can always tell, and will call him out. This was not one of those times.

She just doesn't know.

Liz does not look at the images on the screen anymore, too focussed on Steve and trying to determine… well, anything she can.

"VCT9 is a type of phone reportedly associated with covert criminal communication," Dot explains.

"That is not my phone!"

"What the hell's it doing in your gym bag?" Hastings questions, frowning.

"DS Arnott denies any knowledge of the phone," his solicitor says, "There's clearly some irregularity with the search."

Hastings fumes, "My department carries out it's searches to the letter of the law, fella. The letter."

Following another short, tense silence, Dot continues, "Document 19 in your folders. Now, for the tape, this is a partial transcript of Lindsay Denton's retrial. At Lindsay Denton's first trial she was convicted of conspiracy to murder, and the prosecution hung in crucial evidence found at her home address."

Liz startles at this. Was this the evidence Dot said he had found that solidified Steve had planted the money at Denton's home?

"Namely, 50-grand in cash that was linked via financial forensics to other bribes employed in the conspiracy."

"I didn't plant that money," Steve states, passionately.

Liz watches curiously as Dot turns his lips downward, feigning agreement, before turning to the screen again, "Image 49 shows item reference VCT11. VCT11 is a five pound note. Is that your five pound note?"

Steve looks between them and then to the image on screen, "I don't remember having any money in the bag."

"Not your phone, now it's not your money either."

"I'm saying I don't recall if I was carrying any money in the bag," he insists.

"Fair enough," Dot shrugs, "That was in the inside pocket. It's only a fiver, it's easy to forget."

Liz frowns, unsure how this was incriminating in any way. Where was Dot going with this?

"We ran forensics on that five pound note," Dot explains, "Document 20 in your folders."

Liz eagerly reaches forward for her file, flipping it open to the correct page and waiting for an explanation as to what it shows.

"For the tape, I'm referring to document 20," Kate begins, "Document 20 is an official report made by the financial forensics unit. Report Sierra Alpha slash 5657 slash 15. The summary read; _pollen particles detected on bank note VCT11 show a close match to pollen particles on bank notes AJK72._ AJK72 is the item reference for the £50,000 found at Lindsay Denton's home."

Before Liz can even comprehend what she has heard, Steve slams his hands on the table, furious, "There is no way! That is not my money!"

"A second ago you couldn't even remember," Dot huffs.

"There is no way that I'd have money that was from the same source as Lindsay Denton's bribe!"

"But Lindsay Denton knew you'd planted that evidence and she was your most vociferous accuser, so maybe she was onto this evidence too."

"She wasn't onto any evidence, I mean, she couldn't have known about this!"

"Oh, right, so you hid it from her?"

Steve shakes his head, frantically, "I didn't mean it like that."

"That money would be very hard to come by," Dot insists, "But together, with that phone, this indicates a clear pattern of corrupt conduct."

**"I AM NOT BENT!"**


	31. Chapter Thirty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part two of Steve's interrogation coming right up! I hope you enjoy this chapter, I really loved writing it and delving into the mindset of certain characters. would be really grateful if you could comment and review your thoughts and feedback on this, as I hope I have conveyed the characters in the way I was hoping to! really excited for the next few chapters too as we end the season, and what this means for our favourite oblivious pair!
> 
> as always, thank you for reading, especially those of you who always comment - it means so, so much to me and I couldn't keep going without you!

" **I AM NOT BENT!** "

A silence falls over the room at Steve's desperate declaration.

Liz closes her eyes, chewing her bottom lip as to not cry at the agony on his face.

She has never seen him so distressed. Irritated, disappointed and upset, many times. But this was so much more. And it was tearing her apart. What can she do?

She wants to believe him. She does. More than anything.

Steve Arnott was an idiot, but he was not a murderer. She knows it, in her heart.

But the evidence - it was formidable.

Even if he was being set up, as he says, there were no other leads. Sure, he had tried to point the finger at Dot but that was just a petty attempt to take the blame off himself.

Without another lead or suspect, especially one with as much evidence against them as Steve currently, there is little they could do to help him.

Either way, there is nothing she can do.

Slowly pulling out her notebook as to not catch the attention of anyone in the room, who sits silently staring at one another, Liz places it on her thigh below the table. Pulling a pen from the top of the desk without anyone seeing, she flips the notepad open to a clean page, beginning to make a table - _guilty/not guilty_ \- noting things damning irregular Steve, or anyone else, has mentioned. The car theft, Dot's accused misconduct (despite her resistance to believe it was anything more than petty), the gun record irregularities - anything that could lead to something.

Liz may not be able to help, but she cannot live with herself if she does not try.

Hastings sighs, interlocking his fingers, "This is obviously a very… _difficult_ experience, Steve. Would you like some time alone with your solicitor?"

"No," he says, swallowing.

"Your counsellor?" Liz hears herself speak, quietly, all eyes in the room turning to her.

She hides the notebook under the table as her cheeks flush under their gazes, feeling the heat most fervently from Steve. His eyes soften before hardening, his jaw clenching.

"No."

His gaze snaps away from her, back to the three other investigators.

Liz slackens, wanting to hide. Or better than that; run. She could just leave. There was no need for her to be there, especially against Steve's apparent wishes. But she wants to be there for him. To find out the truth. Whether he wants her to or not.

The notebook remains open.

She can feel Dot, Kate and Ted staring at her, undoubtedly sympathetic. But she will not give in to that. She is working.

"Very well," Hastings says, sending a wary look to the wavering young woman at the end of the table, before glaring back at the young man opposite, "But can we all just... calm down here and not let our emotions get the better of us."

Steve takes a gulp out of his glass of water, while Liz studies him, carefully.

His eyes are glossed over. There is sweat on his brow. The tips of his ears are reddened.

This was all so unfair.

"So, moving on," Hastings declares, "In respect of another murder, that of Sergeant Daniel Waldron, have you any comment to make?"

"Waldron was murdered by Hari Baines," Steve states, truthfully as far as Liz was aware, "Baines confessed and he intends to plead guilty."

"Yeah, well, Baines owed gambling debts to the wrong people," Dot says, "And we believe they contracted him to kill Waldron."

"Significantly, Baines received a call the night of the 31st May from a phone of the type found in your car. Right before he shot and killed Danny Waldron."

"According to Baines, in a statement made on June 30th, the caller had a London slash southeast accent," Dot explains, Steve watching him, curiously.

"So?"

"So, was that you?"

Steve scoffs, sarcastically, "London and the southeast have such small populations it can only have been me?"

"Can you just answer the question please, DS Arnott?" Hastings exasperates.

"Baines and I met loads of times. He would've known my voice and been able to identify. The call was clearly made by another person unknown."

"Yes, and you're familiar with the putative corrupt police officer, codename The Caddy," Hastings says.

Liz shivers.

Everyone in the room watches Steve, silently and expectantly, apprehensive of his response.

Steve looks between them, his gaze falling on each of them. He stares longingly at Liz who strains to hold his eye, though blankly. She can see the realisation settle in. The waver in his gaze and clench of his jaw.

He now knows what they are implying. He now knows she already knows. He now knows that is why she, and everyone, has been avoiding him.

He swallows, looking back to the Superintendent, "I am."

"DI Cottan," Ted invites.

"Sir, assimilation of all credible witness testimony based on direct contact with said individual leads to the following profile; The Caddy is male, almost certainly from a working class background and grew up in an urban environment, probably under 35, almost certainly a detective, trained in covert operations such as counterterrorism and all ear witnesses report The Caddy as having a London or southeast accent."

Steve bitterly chuckles, raising his shoulders and shaking his head, "This is insane."

"God help me, son, I wish it was," Ted says, lowly.

Liz watches him, gut lurching uneasily. She had heard the profile before, even considered it to be true when Dot first told her at her flat. But now, with Steve sitting across from her, it just doesn't fit.

The similarities are uncanny, yes. But Steve Arnott? A criminal mastermind? It makes no sense.

"Sir? _That's_ your evidence?" Steve says, bitterly, pointing to the screen sharing the profile.

Liz makes a note.

"Oh, we have more than just a profile," Dot says, "Only The Caddy would have had access to the same sorts of bribe money found at Lindsay Denton's house, the same supply we found some of in your service vehicle boot."

Liz holds back a such as she crosses through her note.

Steve's solicitor leans over, whispering something inaudible to the man. Liz cringes, knowing that to not be a good sign.

Everyone waits for Steve to respond as his solicitor leans back into his seat. The man says nothing, only looks down to the desk, disappointedly.

"Would you like some more time, DS Arnott?" Ted asks.

"No."

Liz lets out a breath, only to immediately suck it in again when Steve glances up at Dot and begins speaking again.

"DI Cottan originally volunteered to investigate The Caddy and closed the case prematurely based on flimsy evidence provided by an old colleague," Steve asserts.

Liz wishes he would let such a desperate attempt at blame-deflecting go. It was only making things worse for him.

"Yes," Hastings shakes his head slightly, "But we are not here to discuss DI Cottan."

"Sir, he's just looking at some angles trying to discredit this investigation," Dot says, tense.

"I intend to be heard, sir," Steve demands, speaking over the other man, "On the record."

Liz snaps her head to Hastings, seeing him already looking at her with a brow raised. He's asking for her opinion. She nods, eyes pleadingly wide.

"Very well," Ted says, "That's your right."

Dot looks to her, eyes widening himself before chuckling humorlessly and leaning back in his seat with his arms folded.

Steve turns to face him, his elbows on the table and hands together, "DI Cottan, you carried out the original inquiry into The Caddy."

"I did."

"That wrongly identified DC Jeremy Cole."

"Yes," he responds, another glance to Liz who looks at him apologetically, also taken back by Steve's harshness but eager to hear him out.

"Based purely on testimony of your former colleague DC Nigel Morton."

Liz blanches, having not known that before.

Ted cuts in, "Yeah, but Morton has since revised his statement. DI Cottan and DC Fleming are reopening that particular inquiry."

Steve hesitates, then begins again, "You also failed to order a second post-mortem on the body of Rod Kennedy."

"My email bounced back, as well you know," Dot defends, voice laced with nonchalance, "Sir, he's clutching at straws here."

Liz curiously listens, knowing that was likely as it had happened to her numerous times when trying to communicate with various clients and organisations. She makes a note of it anyway.

Steve continues, "In respect of the original inquiry into the murder of Sergeant Danny Waldron, you led a search of Waldron's flat."

"I did."

"And as part of that search you found an envelope addressed to me."

"Yes."

"And the forensics that you failed to carry out on the inside of that envelope detected traces of ink and blood suggesting it contained a note written by Danny Waldron and presumably intended for me."

"No note was ever found," Dot argues, "Danny Waldron saved his list online."

"Which we only discovered weeks later because you failed to pursue this lead!"

"I did not."

"The note _had_ been in that envelope!" Steve shouts, his frustration at the man boiling over.

"That's not what was in the envelope!" Dot shouts back, losing his composure for the first time.

Liz looks at him, then. Her fingers clutch desperately around her own on her lap where she had been making notes. Her eyes then move past him to Kate who is watching both men, surprised. It seems neither Kate nor Ted are aware of whatever this evidence is. What was in there?

"Item reference MRC1," Dot announces, an image of the envelope appearing on screen, "is the envelope recovered from Danny Waldron's flat. And for the tape, Mr Arnott is quite correct, it does bear his name."

Liz glances over at Steve, seeing him stare at the image, eyes wide in confusion.

"Item reference MRC2," Dot continues, "is the content of the envelope. Now, this item was entered into evidence separately for reasons of internal security."

_What?_

Liz's heart beats rapidly.

"You will see in your folders document appendix one, refers to sequestered evidence. Sequestration of evidence was authorised by Gill Biggeloe, leading legal counsel to anti-corruption unit 12."

Steve reaches hurriedly for the folder in front of him, turning the pages hastily to see whatever it is Dot is referring to. Liz does the same, though she hesitates turning the page, anxious about what she will see.

" _This_ ," Dot says, holding up a clear bag with a small object inside, "is what was found inside the envelope."

Liz's heart stops.

A golf tee. The Caddy.

She can hear Kate sigh from across the table, looking over to see the woman hang her head and throw her pen down onto her own notepad.

Ted is watching Steve closely, his own eyes wide with betrayal.

It seems, if there was any doubt in their minds before Steve was guilty, their minds were set now.

Liz, however, is still overwhelmed with thoughts. She struggles to single any out and concentrate on it long enough to form any cohesive conclusion on how to feel.

Dot glares fixated over the table to Steve, still holding up the bag for emphasis, "Now, for the tape, I'm showing Mr Arnott sequestered evidence, a white golf tee."

Steve's mouth hangs open, his face otherwise blank as he looks at the object. Liz wills him to do something, _anything_ that will indicate to her this is all one big pile of bullshit. He doesn't. Only stares.

"Steve Arnott. Golf tee," Dot states, placing the bag down and leaning back, "I think Danny Waldron was trying to tell us something."

Even then, Steve remains still.

"Have you got anything further to add, DS Arnott?" Ted says, his voice unnervingly calm as his mind is made up on his apparent guilt.

Steve hesitates, then shakes his head.

"For the tape, the interviewee is shaking his head," Kate sighs, sending a worried glance over to the other woman who stares forlornly at the man.

Liz closes the notebook, believing it to be over. Her chances are low. So what was the point?

"Steven Arnott, you will remain under arrest for the murder of Lindsay Denton," Hastings raised voice to say, though he refuses to look the younger man in the eye, "I will now seek guidance from the crime prosecutor as to how to charge you for said offense. You will be taken to a place of custody. If you are not charged within the first 24 hours of the original arrest you will be released. However, I will seek the authority for a 12 hour extension. Is all this understood?"

"Yes, sir," Liz hears Steve whisper, as she looks away to her lap, too upset and _angry_ to look at him.

"Interview discontinued."

Liz risks a look up at him as the three investigators begin to move around the room, saving the recording and filling out forms, doing their utmost to also avoid looking at their friend. An armed officer steps forward to place a hand on Steve's shoulder, urging him to stand. Steve does so, timidly, though as they begin to place the handcuffs around his wrists, he turns to her.

Their eyes meet.

"Do you really think I could do this?" he mutters, voice breaking as he does so.

Her mouth opens, though no words are able to force their way out above the sobs rising in her throat.

Before she has the chance to say something, if she Even could, he is led away. His eyes remain on her until he is out of the room, the door swinging closed behind him.

She sniffs, unable to move from her chair out of fear her legs will collapse. Her hands are shaking, as are her shoulders.

A hand places itself on her shoulder, much like the officer had just done with Steve. It feels cruel. Looking up, her eyes wide and brimmed with tears, she sees Dot look down at her, brow furrowed in concern.

"I'm sorry," he says, as he had said many times to her before.

Looking past him, she sees Hastings and Kate looking at her with the same… _pity_.

It boils her blood.

Standing from her chair, Liz ducks out of Dot's grasp and runs to the door. Swinging it open she hurries out, ignoring the looks she receives from the desks as she passes, frenzied.

Liz is unsure where her body is taking her, but she assumes it is after Steve. She has to talk to him. And say what? She does not know. But she _needs_ to. It can't be left like this. With him feeling as though she has betrayed him. Abandoned him. She could never do that. _Never_.

Even with all the evidence mounted against him, she refuses to believe it. She can't. How can she? She knows him. Better than anyone. Even himself.

They have been friends for years. All of that, a lie? No.

Perhaps he had conned them, and been playing a game all this time. But even if only some of it were true, those small moments of genuine kindness and _goodness_ , she cherished it. And it was worth fighting for.

Steve was there for her when no one else was. And Liz owed him to return the favour.

As she had always said, some people do not have a choice. They need help, another option. Throughout her professional career Liz aimed to work towards that. If Steve is, in any way, involved in this, he deserves that same courtesy.

He needs to know.

She believes him.

The evidence was damning. Accusing Dot was far-fetched. He has been stupid enough to play into all their hands.

He is an idiot. But he is not, as it seems everyone else believes, capable of such atrocities. He can't be.

It was impossible to say he was incapable of hurting anyone. He had, unwittingly, hurt her many times. But never through _blackmail_ or _threats_ \- or _murder_.

Siding with Steve was a risk. Both professionally and personally.

Her three other closest friends believe him to be guilty, and were, in fact, the ones doing their best to convict him.

But Steve Arnott is her friend. And he is worth the risk.

She finds herself running, desperate to catch him and the officers before they leave the office and it is too late.

Liz almost skids to a halt as she nears the lift.

Her heart breaks.

The doors are closed, the lift dinging to indicate it has already descended.

She hastily presses the button to hail it, hoping to catch him in the reception lobby downstairs.

"Liz!"

She presses the button again, then a few more times impatiently.

"Liz!"

She turns this time, seeing Kate moving over to her, concern etched all over her features.

"I need to talk to him," Liz defends, determinedly, knowing what the woman is going to say, then turning back to hit the button again.

"Liz…"

" _No_ , Kate!" she whips around, glaring at the other woman who just looks back at her, troubled, "This isn't right! You know it!"

Kate looks to her feet, "I'm just worried about you, mate."

"Me?" Liz points a finger into her chest, regretting her harsh tone but unable to control it, "I'm not the one we just sent away in handcuffs!"

"The evidence-"

"I don't care about that evidence!" Liz shouts, knowing she probably sounds stupid and that all the office is likely listening in but too emotional to care, "He's _our friend_. We haven't done enough. I would rather make a fool of myself than let him rot in a cell under false accusations."

Kate only sighs, putting her hands in her trouser pockets.

Liz takes a breath, the cool air composing her. She looks at Kate, determinedly, "I am going to get to the bottom of this. Are you going to help me or not?"

Kate chews her lower lip, then nods.

Liz nods too, emboldened by Kate's clear continued doubt. If she truly believed him to be guilty, she would not be offering to help.

"Here," Liz says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her notebook, "Take this. I am not an investigator so don't have the knowledge or means you do. But please, for me…"

Kate looks down at the notebook as she takes it, flipping the pages slightly to get an idea of the content, before looking back up to the woman with a blazing look, "I'll look into it."

Liz places a hand on the other woman's arm, smiling slightly in relief and appreciation for her friend, "Thank you."

Kate smiles back, then turns on her heel to head for her desk and make a start on Liz's list.

Liz sighs, wiping under her eyes at the wetness that has pooled there and likely smudged her mascara. She feels a renewed sense of assurance overtake her, now that Kate has agreed to at least consider the possibility of Steve being framed, as he had suggested. She feels less alone. Less overwhelmed.

Making a start for her own desk, she sees Dot leaving Hastings' office.

He stands there for a moment, straightening his tie, then catches her eye across the room. She waits for him to approach, feeling slightly embarrassed she had run away from him like she had, offering him a tight-lipped smile in assurance when he reaches her.

"You ok?" he asks, "That must have been tough."

Liz hums, nodding, remembering the image of Steve in handcuffs being led away by armed police, sending her a dark glare, "Yeah, just- Never thought I would see him in that position."

Dot sighs.

"What was all that about?" Liz asks him, wanting to take the attention off herself and gesturing with her head to Hastings' office where she now sees Gill Biggeloe walk out and to the office exit, a sour look on her face.

The man shakes his head, dismissively, "Nothing. Just a slap on the wrist for using evidence I hadn't yet proposed to him."

Liz nods, assuming he is referring to the golf tee. Why hadn't he presented arguably the most damning piece of evidence supporting his accusation of Steve being The Caddy to the Superintendent before the interview?

Before she can ask, Dot loosens his tie, "How about I drop you back? It's getting late."

Liz looks to her watch, seeing it is now in fact almost 10.

"Yeah, saves me a cold walk home," Liz says, her heart panging at the memory of being followed, but beating that down as there was so much else to worry about now, "Thank you."

"No worries," he grins, though it lacks some of the usual charisma, instead replaced by sadness at what has happened, "I just need a whizz quick."

"Charming," Liz scoffs, watching him chuckle cheekily at her and move past her.

* * *

_Job done._

His fingers shake as he types the text.

He lets out a shaky breath as they hover over the keys.

_And so am I._

It's a risk, he knows it.

But his life has been at risk from the moment he took that _fucking_ job at the golf course as a teenager.

He breathes in deeply through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment as he contemplates pressing send.

 _Just do it_ , his head growls at him, _Send the bloody thing. Let it be over._

But it will never be over.

Though, he has already had the courage to have written the text. Just one more press of a key and he has a chance. A chance at this all being over.

But it will never be-

Before he can convince himself any more against it, his thumb pushes the button. His eyes remain closed until he hears the notification.

They slowly peel open, seeing the small icon reveal it is done.

He should feel relieved. He should relax.

But he can't.

Done? It is anything but.

He leans back slightly where he perches on the toilet seat, unable to look anywhere but fixated on the phone.

_Shit._

He stands, taking off the back of the phone and removing the sim card. Pulling out some toilet roll from the holder, he wraps it tightly inside, hesitating before throwing it into the toilet bowl. He flushes, watching as it swirls before disappearing down the pipe, out of sight. Though, not out of mind.

He braces himself against the stall for a moment, back leaning against one side with his arms outstretched onto the other.

He breathes, hoping no one has entered the room since to hear the heaviness of it.

With one final breath, he straightens, swinging open the door - only to be confronted with the mirror image of himself.

And he _hates_ it.

He feels sick.

_Look at you. Pathetic._

He tears his eyes away, stumbling over to the sinks where he once again has to brace himself to remain steady, otherwise scared he will collapse.

He risks another glance at the mirror.

He does not just see himself this time.

He repulses.

Lindsay Denton stares back at him. Blank. Betrayed. Bloodied. From the gun shot wound _he_ inflicted.

He shakes his head. She does not relent. Instead, she continues to glare.

He can't look away.

This is how he will be, now. Haunted. By her, by those out to get him, by what he has done - all of it.

He closes his eyes, squeezing them shut. Willing her to leave him alone. Even just for a moment so he can think through his next move.

Precariously opening them, his stomach sinks as he realises he is once again alone. But she lingers, burned behind his eyelids. She will stay there forever. It all will.

He reaches an unsteady hand forward to turn on the tap, threading some fingers through the cold water, shuddering at the chill of it.

_What has he done?_

He leans forward, bending so he can cup some of the water.

_What is he doing?_

He brings his hands to his face, feeling the coolness splash his heated cheeks.

_What will he do?_

He sighs as the water drips from his cheeks, though the sound comes out strangled like a sob.

He stands again, his eye avoiding the cruel reflection in front of him. Placing a hand over his mouth to beat back any cries, he struggles to determine whether the wetness under his eyes is from the tap or tears.

All those things he has lost, _and for what?_ All those things he will continue to lose...

_Liz._

He wants to scream just thinking about her.

She will want to help. He knows she will.

And he needs help.

He should talk to her. Tell her the truth. He owes her that.

But how can he?

How can he admit all the awful things he has done?

That he has lied to her, that he has manipulated her.

No.

She was the most understanding and forgiving person he had ever met. But how could she understand and forgive all that?

No one can forgive him. Especially not himself, and not even her.

What will she think of him?

 _Since when did you care?_ he bitterly berates himself.

 _Always_ , he supposes, _Since the moment we met._

He had instantly been attracted to her, all those years ago. How could he not be? She was beautiful. But most of all; she cared and she _listened_.

No one else had. Even his own wife hadn't bothered to. It means a lot to a person when they feel they have no one else to turn to. That's what made her so good at what she did.

He had treated his wife badly, he can admit that now. The secrets and the deceit and the drinking and the gambling and the shouting - it was a mess. Even from a young boy, when he was first recruited by... _them_... he had not had a healthy relationship with anyone. His parents were drunks, his employers criminals and his friends - well, he had none. He had thought _they_ were his friends. But no. They were using him. It took him so long to realise it. Only now did he realise what a huge _fucking mess_ he has been forced into.

In a way, he supposes Liz may be the first healthy relationship he has had with anyone. And even then, he fears it is corrupted; based on manipulation and lies on his part. How different was it really from anyone else? With him deceiving her from the beginning? Using her for his own gain?

He wants it to be different.

Is it?

Back when they first met, he had been as honest with her as he believes he could without arousing suspicion of his criminal links. He opened up to her; about his marriage and addiction.

He would go along with the heckling she endured at TO-20, wanting to fit in, though honestly struggled to find Morton's attacks as amusing as the man would believe his actions to be. Again, he guesses, it shows how much he has always cared about others' opinions of him.

Even as a lad, he always felt the need to prove himself. Desperate for some sort of validation from someone, _anyone._ They had tried to beat it out of him over the years, hardening his shell, but wasn't that why he got wrapped up in all this _shit_ in the first place? Because he wanted someone to be proud of him? To care?

_Liz cares._

When he met her again as he joined AC-12 last year, he felt it again. That little something. The feeling of wanting her to care.

And she did, seemingly. She supported him, reassured him, Hastings even told him she had been the one to convince the others, Steve in particular, he would be a great addition to the team.

His heart lurched just thinking about it.

But even that was cruel. Tarnished into stabbing pain by the fact he had lied to her all this time.

In the beginning, at least, he had wanted to use her, finding the way little-Arnott would almost shake with jealous rage whenever they spoke. Eventually it became him wanting to turn her against Arnott to make the man hurt as things began to fall in place. Making mistake after mistake, Arnott was playing into his hands. And he knew how much Liz meant to the man, and him her. Everyone could see it. For Arnott to suffer and take the blame, he needed to convince Liz more than anyone else. So he manipulated her. Tried to turn her against the other man. To get her to play into _his_ hands.

He doubts it has worked. She still seems convinced Steve is innocent, despite his best attempts - and, of course, she is right. She _was_ on his side, but not fully.

That wasn't what bothered him about it.

It bothered him that she was possibly only caring for himself because she thought it the right thing to do. Not because she wants to.

But he wants Liz to.

Things had developed, feelings had changed. This was about so much more than manipulation or _validation._ She cares for him. Likes him, even. And he... how did he feel about her? He cares for her and likes her, too. The thought of it begin anything more than that scares him. Because that's what he wants. Truly. More than anything besides all this coming to an end and him being free.

The two of them - it wasn't real and it couldn't be.

Could it?

It is pathetic, really. It makes him weak. He hates himself for it.

He had given in to the weakness the other night. After killing Lindsay and covering up the evidence, he found himself stumbling to her flat. He just could not help himself.

And she had worried about him. Actually _worried_ about _him_.

His nerves had almost given out when she noticed the blood on his collar. He was a _fucking idiot_ for not noticing it himself. But being caught out is not what scared him. Her reaction to knowing is what had his heart leaping into his throat, choking him.

He shouldn't have gone to her flat. He shouldn't have seen her. He shouldn't have been that _weak_.

But there is just something about her. Something that tempts him to spill it all.

The same thing that had him torn apart now, stronger than ever.

She has thawed his heart, that he tried so hard to numb, with her smile alone. And he wants to be better. Be the man she _thinks_ he is.

But he can't. How can he?

He should come clean. tell her everything. Surely, that is the only way this is going to work.

But he can't. How can he?

He can make things right.

But he can't. How can he?

He doesn't want Liz hurt. But she already is. Because of _him_. And she doesn't even know it.

It is unfair. It is cruel. It is all his fault.

Just as with everything else, it is ruined before it is even real. He has destroyed all chances of happiness for himself. But _why?_

He knows it will end badly, it has to.

No one can get away with all the things he has done. And they shouldn't.

He _should_ suffer for this.

If anything, it is a good sign he has regrets, no?

No. No amount of conscience can save him now. _It is too late_.

There is no chance at redemption, no matter how badly he works for it. Even to pursue whatever this _good_ thing was with Liz would not undo all the _bad._

The way she smiles at him shatters his heart. He wants to find comfort in it, and sometimes, if he convinces himself of the delusion enough, he can. But it reminds him of all the things he cannot be for her. How he doesn't deserve to be looked at that way. It hurts. It is cruel.

Even now, just thinking about the last time she smiled and how she is likely stood just outside, waiting for him - it kills. He wants to be sick.

It would be dangerous. To keep going as they are. Especially now he has put a target above his head by backing out. He doesn't want her in danger, ever. Especially not because of him.

But she already is. In danger of heartbreak. And it is all his fault.

_Would she cry? Would she shout? Would she turn her back on him completely? Would she tell the others? Or would she listen? Would she forgive him? Would she stay by his side and run with him? Why should she?_

He growls lowly in his throat, his hands tightening their grip around the edge of the sink. It almost cracks under the pressure, just as he is.

* * *

"You alright?" Liz asks as Dot finally emerges from the toilets. She has been waiting outside for a while, holding both their jackets in her arms.

His face is red and wet, as if the man has splashed water over his face to cool it.

Dot looks down at her, bewildered and a little embarrassed, as he wipes his wet hands on his trousers and hastily shoves his phone into his pocket, "Oh, yeah, yeah. Just had a stressful day."

Liz hums. That was an understatement.

But no wonder he was stressed. The poor man was just put under heavy fire. Not only did he have to face up to the harsh circumstance that he was brave enough to stand up to Steve and make the accusation, but Steve had then tried turning the accusations on _him_. That was enough to upset anyone.

Her heart lurches as she notices his far-off, dazed look. Liz just hopes he knows he can open up to her, let out whatever it is on his mind that is troubling so much, like the other night when he had turned up to her door, almost crying.

She reaches out a hand, stepping closer and rubbing gently on his upper arm. He almost jumps, suddenly grounded by her touch. But he soon melts into it, smiling down at her, gratefully.

"Let's get you home, Queenie."


	32. Chapter Thirty-Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was very excited to write this chapter, and absolutely cannot wait to see your reactions! please do comment/review, I would love to hear your feedback on where this has gone, how it is going and where you think it is going or should go!

"Dot," she says, quietly, as they drive home together in his car.

The man in the driver's seat glances at her, taking in the sight of the young woman tucked into his passenger seat, looking concernedly up at him. It breaks his heart.

"Is everything alright?"

She watches as he looks back at the road, his chest enlarging as he takes in a breath.

Who was she kidding? Of course everything was _not_ alright.

But the man had been particularly stressed since leaving Steve's interview. The way he had looked when he left the toilets earlier had, honestly, scared her, having never seen the man anything but composed.

His eyes were bloodshot, his tinged cheeks contrasting harshly with the now pale grey of his complexion. His jaw was clenched tight, his fists at his side shaking uncontrollably.

Something was bothering him. And it was more than just stress over the case and Steve's arrest. She still did not have an answer for why he had turned up on her doorstep the other night in such a frenzy, but she could only assume it was the same thing eating at him.

At his hesitation, she tries again, leaning forward slightly in her seat as to try and capture his attention.

"You can talk to me," she pleads, "You can trust me."

That seemed to be the right thing to say, as the man turns to look at her, his eyes softening and a small smile brightening his face a little.

"I know," he says, sincerely, gazing into her eyes so she knows he means it.

Liz blushes thankfully at that, though still sits eagerly awaiting a response to her question. He remains quiet, still driving.

She sits back in her seat, also facing the road. Liz does not want to push. Dot will talk to her if and when he wants to.

Though, she does feel impatiently desperate for someone to press _their_ problems on her so she doesn't have to confront _hers_ right now.

The rest of the drive is quiet. The pair lost in their own minds.

Pulling up outside her apartment building, Dot turns to her with a small smile.

She returns it, the best she can, despite the deep sadness she feels - the image of Steve looking at her, betrayed, as he was led away in handcuffs burned behind her eyelids.

"Thank you," she says, though hesitates opening the car door and stepping out, admittedly enjoying the company and curious as to what is on his mind.

Liz turns back to the man who raises a brow at her, "Would you like to come in?"

He exhales, the small smile spreading, "Yeah. Yeah, I really would."

* * *

"Tea? Coffee?"

"I can make the drinks, if you want," he offers, though Liz waves him off and heads over to the kettle.

"It's really fine. Feel free to chuck your jacket anywhere," she says, Dot turning to place his folded jacket on the sofa where she had thrown hers when they walked in.

"In that case, tea, please."

"Black with one sugar, right?"

"That's it, yeah."

As she makes the drinks, Dot moves slowly over to the kitchen, leaning his hip against the counter with his hands in his pockets. Liz looks over to him as she reaches for the teabags from the cupboard, taking in his deflated posture. His slumped shoulders prompting her to ask again, "You ok?"

He huffs, amused at her insistence, "Much better now I am out of that office. Forget there's a world beyond it sometimes."

She hums, agreeing, as she pours the boiling water into the two mugs.

"How about yourself?"

Liz looks over at him, a brow raised.

Dot looks at her, pointedly, urging her to answer his question, "You doing alright?"

She nods, timidly, unsure herself how exactly she is feeling, "Fine. I think."

Liz hears him sigh, watching as he leans fully against the counter and rubs his hands tiredly over his face, resting them against his jaw for a moment before composing himself again, sniffing.

"Liz," he says, taking a step closer now, "I really am sorry."

"It's not your fault," she attempts to reassure, assuming he means for everything happening with Steve and The Caddy.

The man turns his mouth downward in disbelief, clearly believing himself to somehow still be to blame.

She puts down the milk and moves over to him, leaning against the counter herself and folding her arms, adamantly, "Dot. None of this is your fault."

He just huffs.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she tries again, concerned at how insistent he seemed to feel that he was the reason she was upset.

"I do," he says, sadly.

Liz notices him press on the old wound on his jaw with two fingers, as if purposely eliciting pain there. It still looked sore, though it should have healed a while ago. Her stomach jolts. He was using it to _beat_ himself. To _hurt_ himself. To _punish_ himself. For what?

"Please, Dot-"

"This is all my fault," his breathing begins to pick up, his eyes almost defocusing as they dart away from her and around the room, his fingers still pressed deeply into his jaw.

She reaches out, taking both of his hands into hers and pulling them away. She holds them between their bodies, stroking her thumbs over the backs of his hands. Dot watches her, curious, though his eyes remain wild. His breathing evens out almost immediately at their contact. The coolness of her hands calming him.

Liz's mouth twists, realising if he is going to open up to her, she needs to open up to him.

"Steve has done this to himself," she sighs, watching their hands as Dot seems to grip her tighter at her confession, "He's let us all down, and himself. If it wasn't for you, who knows what more he could have destroyed."

Dot huffs heavily out his nose, taking a step closer and shaking his head. His hands grip hers tighter.

Liz sniffs, feeling terrible at her honesty but also relieved to be letting go, "I thought I knew him. I hoped I did. But...I just don't know anymore."

Dot lets go of one of her hands to wrap his arm around her shoulder. Liz does not hold back, moulding into his arms and resting her head against his chest, their other hands still clasped between them.

She feels his breath brush her hair as he speaks, wincing at the way his voice breaks, "I really am… sorry. It shouldn't be like this."

Liz sighs, closing her eyes, frustrated he does not seem to be understanding her point. How can it be his fault? He was just doing his job. And while she has her own doubts, she understands how suspicious Steve has made himself look.

She turns her head to look up at him, taking a small step back, "Come on, let's sit down."

He nods, not quite catching her eyes, gaze hung on the floor. Liz slips his hand into hers, leading him over to the sofa.

As they sit down, she scoots a little closer to him so their knees touch. Keeping his hand in hers, she ducks her head to catch his still lowered gaze.

The man looks up at her, his usual cocksure composure completely deflated, with his shoulders drooped and eyes dull. Her heart shatters, but she refuses to show it, determining her face.

"Talk to me."

He guffaws, the first hint of a smile on his face - but only briefly. Dot looks her in the eye, a glint of endearment in them at her use of her 'work voice'; the one he often teases her for and forbids her from using.

The glint then disappears, suddenly, diminishing Liz's hope she was getting somewhere with him. She just wants to get to the bottom of whatever is bothering him. Whatever it is he is hiding from her.

His mouth drops open slightly, but no words come out. It is as if the thought of vocalising whatever was on his mind is what silences him.

"I'm... scared."

Liz shudders at his shaky tone, as if the admittance pains him. Her breath hitches, not ever expecting to hear the man, usually so confident and assured, sound so broken.

"I don't want you hurt," Dot quietly admits, his eyes still looking away from her to the floor.

Liz can only stare at him, bewildered at the confession. What does he mean? He's only doing his job, as well as looking out for her.

Why does he feel so guilty for her being upset? Like she has insisted time and time again, it is not _his_ fault.

How could he hurt her? He has been kind and considerate and supportive since the moment he stepped into the AC-12 office all that time ago.

She's grown to care for him - a lot. He was not as close as Steve, and they did not know each other as well. But Dot had proved himself to be a good friend. Unlike the other man, as harsh as it may seem to admit, he had not let her down at almost every turn.

She wasn't there to stroke his ego. She wasn't there to have her insight and advice ignored. And she wasn't invisible as soon as another woman entered the room.

He has not hurt her. He won't. He couldn't.

"I am here for you," she insists, "Just as you have been for me."

His eyes flick to hers, softening for the briefest moment before hardening again. He shakes his head slightly, disbelieving, his gaze once again defeatedly dropping to his feet.

Liz sighs.

Unsure what to say, and feeling guilty for it despite him finally seeming to open up, Liz allows herself to smile slightly, "Do you remember our first appointment? Just before we went into the room, Morton said something violently misogynistic that I don't have the energy to waste remembering. You laughed. Who would have thought then we would be here now?"

Dot brightens, only slightly, chuckling when he notices her apparent amusement at the memory, "We really were awful to you, weren't we?"

Liz hums, nodding, though her smile widens at his new brightness, "Yeah, you could be."

"I _am_ sorry, really I am," he laments, again, "You didn't deserve any of that."

She huffs, though still amused, "Well, you did apologise to me for whatever Morton said as soon as the door closed behind us. That's when I knew you were different."

He raises a curious brow, urging her to continue.

"Well, you were a pain in my arse and only encouraged his behaviour," Liz humours, "but compared to him and the rest, you were polite enough to know when to stop. You could see when it bothered me. And you'd make a point of apologising."

Dot just looks at her, intrigued with a hint of astonishment.

She continues, "You're a good man."

His eyes widen at that, gaze snapping away to the floor. He pulls his hands away from hers, leaning his elbows on his knees to rub them fiercely against his face.

Liz frowns, concerned at his apparent dismissal of that claim.

She leans forward, urging, "Why can't you see that?"

"Because I'm not!" he almost shouts, leaning back harshly to glare at her, hands outstretched like a plea.

Liz blanches, confused, noting the way his eyes have glossed over again.

"I'm not," his voice breaks, helplessly, as he lowers his arms onto his lap and wrings his hands together. Dot looks away from her once more, clearly embarrassed at his outburst.

She sighs, leaning forward to reach out for his hands. He flinches again as she takes them, but immediately responds to her touch, turning his palms to enclose them around hers.

"There's so much I want to tell you," he almost whispers, shaking his head as he does, "But I can't. I just can't."

She allows them to sit in silence for a moment. Dot is breathing heavily, though his breaths slow with every moment that passes between them, matching the slow strokes of her thumb against the inside of his wrists.

"I'm going to shower," she announces, softly, deciding he needs some time alone to think through whatever is running around in his head, causing havoc. Maybe that will help him open up to her - he just needs to make sense of it himself first, not having had a break to recuperate for weeks, "Just call if you need me."

Dot nods, slowly looking up at her with large, sad eyes. He grips her hands tighter for a second before releasing them. She sends him one more small, encouraging smile before standing from the sofa and heading down the hallway.

Closing her bathroom door behind her, Liz lets out a breath. Things had been piling themselves on top of her, too. She also needed a moment, just to herself, to organise her thoughts.

Walking over to the sink, she considers herself in the mirror. Her eyes are rimmed red, her complexion almost grey. She looks tired. _Very_ tired.

Pulling out her phone from her pocket to begin to undress, she sees an old text from Kate, prompting her to send the woman a message.

_How's it going? Found anything yet? X_

With any luck, her notes have assisted Kate in following another lead. She knows the woman stayed behind late in the office to look into anything that might help them prove their friend's innocence - if they could. Her hopes are low, especially this soon, but she can't stop thinking about it.

Her thoughts are on Steve himself as she steps under the hot water.

He's sitting in a cell right now. Alone, feeling betrayed.

Her gut aches thinking about it. Yet thinking about him is all she can do.

What will happen if he _is_ proved innocent? Will he forgive her for not doing enough? What else could she even do?

Nothing. This is out of her control. Things won't ever be the same.

She almost wants to cry, but wills herself not to as she feels the scorching water hit her body.

Steeling herself with the reminder that Kate was investigating further, using her own notes, Liz finishes her shower, stepping out into the steam.

Wrapping a towel around herself, she walks over to her phone, checking it for messages. A notification has popped up. Kate has responded.

_Is Cottan with you?_

Liz frowns, unsure why that would be her response to her question. Maybe she has found something and needs Dot's help as a DI to look into it more. They have to keep their investigation on the low, not wanting someone like Gill stepping in and forbidding them. Even Hastings would likely advise them against it. But they could trust Dot.

Or maybe she wants to ask him a few questions, officially rule out the discrepancies Steve had accused him of in the cases.

Liz wipes her wet hands on the towel before typing:

_Yeah, at mine. Why? X_

She continues to change, towel-drying her hair and combing it through. Her eyes are often drawn to her phone, eager for Kate to reply.

Liz had hoped she would feel better after her shower. That some of her stresses would be washed away and she could relax, even if only slightly. Unfortunately, her head still aches furiously, her shoulders and back tight from tension.

Rolling her shoulders back to try and relieve the aching, Liz strains to hear her phone make the text alert - but Kate does not respond.

Wrapping her dressing gown around her and throwing on some joggers, Liz sighs, taking one last despairing look at herself in the now-fogged mirror. Grabbing her phone off the side, she walks back out to her living room where Dot stands in her kitchen.

His tie has been removed, strewn across her sofa. His jacket too has been placed beside it in a pile. He looks far more relaxed, after having a moment to himself, clearly having been embarrassed at acting so vulnerable in front of her. She wishes he knew how little she cared, that she appreciated his attempt at openness in front of her.

Dot turns around at her arrival, two mugs full of hot tea in his hands. He sends her a small smile as he places them on the counter, Liz approaching with a smile of her own.

"Thank you," she says, glad to see he has enlivened, even if only by a little.

"No problem," he says, taking in the sight of her in the dressing gown before looking away again, quickly and bashfully, "I used up the last of your milk, hope that's alright."

"Of course," she says, taking a sip of the hot drink, "It's lovely, thank you."

He nods, taking a sip himself.

Another moment of silence passes between them, both stood beside each other, holding onto their mugs.

"I always wanted to ask," Liz says, hesitantly, looking up at him. He looks curiously down at her, "You once told me I was part of the team. In fact, made a point of asking me to help with investigations, looking at evidence. And then when I volunteered to go undercover on the Hurrell case in Hastings' office, you didn't think twice to back me up. Why?"

The man puts a hand in his pocket as he takes another sip of his tea with the other, "You've got a good head on your shoulders. You know right from wrong. You can see things, about situations and about people, that others don't."

"Not quite the investigator that you are, though," Liz dismisses, smirking.

He shakes his head, "You empathise. That's special. Some of us don't have the luxury."

Liz blushes, her cheeks heating at his appraisal. She holds his gaze when it reaches her, taken back by the sincerity there.

Encouraged by her surprise, he continues, looking her in the eye with his voice low, "You keep me straight, fix my head on right. Not sure how I would get through it all without you."

It is her turn to shake her head, bashfully, placing her mug down before she drops it in shock.

Dot swallows, following her lead and placing his mug down shakily, "Truthfully? I need you there. Beside me."

Her insides are on fire, nerves twisting as he looks at her so intensely, "And I will be. As long as you need me."

That's all he needs to hear.

Dot leans in, their faces almost touching, his breath brushing her cheeks -

Liz takes a slight step back, bewildered. Since when have they been stood so close? Did he just try to-? What is he-?

Before her mind can comprehend or deny it, she takes a step forward, balancing on her tiptoes, and crashes her lips against his.

He responds immediately, closing the remaining space between their bodies and wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her. His other hand finds its way through her damp hair and behind her neck as both of hers fling themselves around his shoulders.

Their lips meld together, heat melting away the gap between them.

Her hand slides its way around the side of his neck up to his jaw, gently caressing the mark where his bruise was as their lips continue to connect. Encouraged, his hand slips up into her hair, tugging at it slightly as their kiss begins to deepen.

Liz feels a quiet groan roll its way up her throat, feeling the rumble of his chuckle at the sound through her chest pressed against him.

She wants to forget it all, trying to lose herself in the kiss. AC-12, The Caddy, Kate's investigation, Steve's arrest, all of it.

 _Steve_ …

Liz shudders in Dot's arms as she thinks of him. Her gut begins to twist, anxiously, almost begging her to reconsider what she is doing. What _is_ she doing? She should be helping him-

 _No._ _Not now._

She pushes herself against the man holding her harder, willing herself to forget the other man. Venting all her tension into the moment, she beats down the guilt with another groan, Dot reciprocating with a satisfied grunt as their tongues touch.

Liz moves her hand from his jaw, sliding her fingers down to grip his collar, pulling him, if possible, closer. He moves too, his hand trailing from her hair down her gown to where it sits on her chest. Her breath hitches as he begins to peel it back, hot air sticking to the water droplets still dotting her skin. His thumb presses against her bare skin first, stroking gently as he slowly continues to pull the gown over past her shoulder.

He seems to hesitate, not pulling away from the addictive taste of her mouth, yet silently asking if she wants to continue going further.

She does not think, only feels her skin prick desirably at his touch. She yanks once again at his collar, vigorously pulling him down to her, their lips never detaching for a moment. She shrugs her partly-exposed shoulder, encouraging him to continue sliding the gown away. She can feel him smile into the kiss, fingers teasingly trailing against her skin as he does so.

Her tongue darts against his lower lip hungrily as the pads of his fingers dance across her collarbone, sliding down, down, down-

A phone rings. They pull apart.

Dot stares at her, stunned. She does the same, taking in the slight bruise of his lips and the way his face had reddened due to the heat. Liz's face feels hot, too, her lips now tender from the way she had crushed theirs' together. She revels in the feeling of her blazing skin while it still lasts, the cool air around them beginning to seep in.

She grins as Dot eventually beams down at her, the pair staring at the other giddily as they catch their breath. His hands remain on her waist, hers on his chest.

He looks happy, as happy as she feels. Though, there is a slight pang running through her heart, the same as in his eyes. She can't identify it. She doesn't want to. She wants to enjoy this and not overthink it, as usual.

He clears his throat, the woozy silence surrounding the pair suddenly diminishing as they remember the sound that interrupted them. Dot takes a careful, small step back, looking at her apologetically.

Liz nods her head, throat too dry to speak, indicating it was alright. Reluctantly, they let go of each other, Dot pulling his phone out of his pocket.

His face falls. Liz watches as it drains of colour. The passionate rouge that had doused his cheeks only a moment ago dulled instantly as he looks at the caller ID.

His eyes flit to hers for a brief moment, almost nervously, before he turns his back on her and walks a few paces away. He listens for a moment, speaking back in hushed tones she cannot determine.

Liz frowns, struggling to diminish the smile that remains etched on her face at the memory of what just happened.

Wait…

What the _hell_ just happened?!

Liz turns away from the man standing on the other side of the room, suddenly aware of her exposed shoulder. Quickly pulling her gown back up, she bites back an incredulous chuckle as she thinks of the kiss. Taking a few steps over to her mug on the counter, she distracts herself by taking another sip of the now-cold tea that remains there, waiting for Dot to finish his call.

And what happens then?

Does he leave? Does she offer for him to stay? Do they… continue?

Liz shakes her head, eyes widening as the implications of this kiss suddenly dawn on her.

What does this mean? Was this just a one-time thing they will agree to forget, if possible? Will this lead to something more? Does he even want that? Does _she_? What does _she_ want?

_Steve._

She berates herself for thinking of that man again, feeling her nerves extinguish as she does. Why was he on her mind again? After all that? Surely the only people who matter right now in this moment are herself and Dot? What right does he have to intrude her mind over and over? What does this have to do with him? In fact, this should be the one thing in her current situation that doesn't. She wants to roll her eyes at the audacity of that man to try and ruin this for her - even without being there. No. He cannot do this to her. Especially not after all the shit he has pulled.

Though, her stomach does drop again with guilt at the thought of him.

_Why?_

_What, because he has put himself in a shitty position and is now having to face up to the consequences? And, despite everything against him, and the risks this has for her, she, with the help of Kate, is still doing her utmost to help? That she is living a life beyond him for just a moment? Allowing herself to be, what she hopes is, happy?_

_Why should she feel guilty for that?_

_What more could it be?_

Liz turns around as she hears Dot walk back over to her. She smiles, somewhat more bashful than she had been before, after a few minutes of sobriety.

His face is unreadable as he puts the phone back into his pocket. His eyes seem darker, not as jubilant as they just had been.

She panics.

_Oh God. He regrets it._

Her face falls. As does her stomach.

"I need to go," he says, quietly, not quite looking her in the eye, "Something's come up."

"Oh," she chokes, taken back by his change in demeanour and unsure what else to say, "Ok."

The man seems to notice her apprehension, mouth hanging open slightly before he leans forward, swiftly capturing her lips against his again.

It is a shorter and sweeter kiss this time, though still heated. One that assures her he does not regret it. She smiles into it as she realises.

He hesitates as he pulls away, hovering his lips over hers for a moment, not wanting it to be over. She remains still, not wanting to discourage him from making another move. To her dismay, he stands and moves to grab his jacket from the sofa.

"Right," he clears his throat again as he slides his jacket over his shoulders and picks up his tie, pushing it messily into his pocket, "I'll see you soon, yeah?"

She grins, walking him to the door, "Yeah, see you soon."

He looks back at her once he has walked through her door, shoving his hands into his pockets as he braces himself for the cold night air outside.

He struggles to find something to say, Liz just smiling at him softly as she leans on her door.

Dot's heart breaks a little more, if possible.

He wills himself to turn away, his feet aching as they try to resist.

"Goodnight," he hears her say, sweetly, as he turns his back.

Before he can stop himself, he whirls back around, approaching her again in one long stride. He grips her face in his hands, pulling it towards him so their lips meet in one more, desperate kiss. Like it is the last time he will have the chance.

Before she has the chance to reciprocate - or he can get more carried away - he pulls away, turning on his heel and leaving the apartment building.

He dares not look over his shoulder at her as she stares after him. He winces at the sound of her door closing shut.

The nightly frost slaps his face as he steps outside. He takes a shuddery breath in attempt to settle his nerves, finding it futile. There is a wetness pooling under his eyes. He is crying again.

_What the fuck have you done?_

* * *

She leans against the door as it closes behind her, taking a breath.

_What just happened?_

Liz can't stop grinning. Her stomach is in knots - in a good way? She hopes so. Her head is running too fast to catch any thoughts to work it out.

Walking over to her sofa, her legs admittedly a little shaky, she flops down onto it on her back. Staring up at the ceiling, she tries to play it all over and think it all through. Her fingers play restlessly with themselves where they rest over her stomach as she replays whatever the hell just happened over and over.

_What now?_

She reaches into her pocket, pulling out her phone. There are still no texts from Kate.

_Kate, ha_ _! Can't wait to see her face when I tell her about this._

Does she not have any updates? Liz can only hope she is getting somewhere.

Maybe that is who called Dot? Perhaps she needed his help with something on the investigation, that's why she had asked whether he was with her?

Though, he had seemed worried. Liz hopes Kate is alright, if that's who it was.

Hopefully they would find something to help Steve.

_Steve..._

What would _he_ think? And why does it matter to her so much?

Her stomach twists again. This time, she knows it is apprehension.

Would he be mad? Would he take it as another betrayal? That she has chosen a 'side'?

But how would he even know, now? Not like she can send him a text or call him like she usually would.

Speaking of phones, something catches her eye on the other end of the sofa. She sits up, reaching for it. A black phone.

_Must be Dot's. It probably fell when he picked up his jacket._

She will have to give it to him tomorrow at work. Not like she can call him to come and pick it up!

Liz throws it back down, flopping back onto the seat.

Wait, hadn't he put his phone in his pocket? And wasn't the one he answered earlier silver?

She shrugs it off. Not like she was exactly thinking straight when he had picked it up.

That's where she eventually falls a sleep, emotionally and physically drained from the day. Thoughts float around her mind as her eyes close; Kate, Dot, _Steve..._

The last thought she has before drifting into unconsciousness is: _what will happen now?_


	33. Chapter Thirty-Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this update took so long! the uk going back into lockdown, university deadlines and then catching an illness all seemed to try and stop me - but I am back! extremely nervous about this chapter but hope I can do the scenes and characters some justice

Kate had not replied to her text at any point that night. Liz was supposed to have a day off, Ted insisting she deserved one after everything that has been happening. But she decided that morning to come into the office anyway, mostly to catch up with the other woman about her findings that might help Steve, if any. Besides, she needs to return Dot's phone to him after he left it behind.

Walking up to the building, Liz pulls her phone out of her pocket once again, desperate for Kate to have responded so she knows what she is walking into. There are no new messages-

The building's alarm starts to blare.

Liz snaps her head up and away from her phone, mouth turning downward in curiosity. _What is happening?_

Approaching slowly, she startles seeing two figures running hastily down the stairs through the glass windows. It is Dot, followed by an armed officer. _What is happening?_

Liz halts as they come bounding through the turnstile doors, Dot's face clouded with conviction. His eyes catch hers as he approaches, not slowing for a moment. They widen slightly, though remain hardened as he glares at her.

"Dot?" she calls out desperately as he comes near, the armed officer close behind, "What is going on?"

He does not answer her, only reaches out his hand to grab her arm as he passes pulling her along with him. She begins to run too, beyond bewildered, dragged along beside him as he moves. _What is happening?_

His hand slips down from where it grips her arm as they run, fingers tightening themselves around her hand, almost to the point it hurts. Liz returns the grasp, looking up at him, breathing heavily and brow deeply furrowed in confusion. _What is happening?_

As they reach the road, she turns back to look over her shoulder, Dot not relenting his speed for a moment as he dodges passing cars. She sees the armed officer reaching forward, a spare glock in his hold which he passes into Dot's other hand. Beyond him, Liz now sees Kate exit the building, moving just as hastily after them. She also carries a large gun, strapped around her shoulders.

Cars screech and blow their horns as they weave their way around them.

"Are we after a suspect?" Liz shouts to the man holding onto her as they reach the other side of the road, still running, "Have you found another lead?"

Again, she receives no answer, only a harsher tug on her hand to keep her following beside him.

"Get back!" he shouts to civilians as they pass through the crowded streets, "Move!"

"Who are we after?" Liz shrieks as they turn a sharp corner, her wrist beginning to ache from the man's fierce hold, "Give me a brief and I can help corner them!"

He ignores her, again, running determinedly. Liz wants to growl, frustrated at his silence and struggling to keep up.

She is pulled behind him into an alleyway, the armed officer right on their heel. They continue speeding by, Dot hauling her along beside him. She can feel his palms sweating, the grip occasionally slipping. But she reaches back, taking it again. Liz may not know what is going on, or why he has dragged her along, but she trusts him.

Liz turns back to look over her shoulder again, now unable to see Kate anywhere behind them. Maybe she was going another route to try and trap whoever they were chasing?

"Armed police!" a voice yells through the grated fence on one side of the alleyway. The three of them turn, though Dot does not allow for them to stop.

It is Kate. With her gun raised. Aimed at them.

_What the fuck is happening?!_

"Drop your weapons!" Kate screeches, Liz noticing Dot's hand grip tighter onto the glock in his other hand as they move.

The armed officer behind them stops and raises his weapon at her friend, only for him to be shot down. Kate does not hesitate, immediately turning the gun to them. Dot eventually slows, though does not stop, glancing over his shoulder at the fallen man, eyes wide.

Liz takes that chance to slow herself, releasing her fingers from where they were gripped underneath his. As she tries to slip her hand away, his hold tightens around her wrist, tugging at her. She tugs back, desperate to be let go and told what the fuck is going on. He avoids her gaze, glaring darkly at Kate before picking up speed again, his bruising hold on Liz's wrist forcing her to follow after him. She pulls back, but he is too strong. Her throat is too dry to shout. Her head too sore to think.

"One suspect down," she hears Kate call as they turn the corner out of her sight, "I repeat, one suspect down. Second suspect and civilian hostage heading towards-"

Her voice trails away as Dot drags Liz through another street, glock now raised up to chest-height, as if prepared for an attack. Liz feels herself begin to cry, too overwhelmed to process any of it.

_Dot?! Suspect?! Her a hostage?! Kate after them?! What-?!_

He pulls her onto another busy road crossing the flyover, gun pointed at moving cars to order them to stop. They fly out of their way, screeching and honking and- Liz's head hurts.

She feels dizzy. Her breathing is giving out. Her legs shake. Her hands convulsing. Her resistance against him slackens. At this point, Dot's hold on her is the only thing keeping her moving.

Mustering enough energy to look behind her as Dot pulls her down some stairs, descending from the bridge, she sees Kate still chasing behind them, weapon in hand.

She wants to call out, but things are moving too fast.

Dot drags her down the stairs, grip still cramping her small wrist. He skips steps as they descend in his desperate haste, Liz feeling her ankle twist painfully as she stumbles to keep up.

They reach the bottom, Dot continuing to drag her into the empty road.

He stops. So does she.

Liz looks up at him, risking a glance at his face as she breathes heavily, trying to revive her aching lungs. She bends over slightly, her arms beginning to droop, desperate to be freed. He does not relent his hold. If anything, he holds her tighter.

" _Shit!_ " his head whips around in every direction. She notes the wildfire in his eyes, his brows furrowed desperately as he spins them both, looking for some sort of way out.

_Why has he stopped? Why does he not keep running? Does he have something planned? A pick-up of some sort? Who is coming for him? What has he done? Why is Kate chasing him?_

_What the FUCK is going on?!_

A sudden surge of rage motivates her to pull again at his grasp, tugging her arm away from him. He whips around to face her, his fingers crushing her hand and his other arm, still holding the glock, comes around to grab at her. She hits it away with her free hand, an immediate pain shooting through her arm as it impacts with the firearm. They struggle, Dot eventually able to twist her around to face him, one hand remaining tight around her wrist while the other grips her shoulder.

The touch is cruel. A sharp, painful contrast to the way he had caressed that same shoulder the night before.

"Dot, please-" she cries, quietly, too tired to speak, "You're hurting me."

That seems to trigger something within him. His grasp loosening, if only slightly.

 _I don't want you hurt,_ he had said last night.

Liz feels tears pricking sharply behind her eyes, though they struggle to push through the shock. She looks up at him desperately, still trying to shrug her way out of his hold.

Her heart shatters.

His eyes are cold, yet her own heartache is reflected in them. The man stares down at her, eyes darting across her face. They glisten, clouded by his own stubborn tears refusing to fall. His brows are raised, yet twisted upward, strained. His breath is heavy, hot against her cheeks.

"Liz-" he chokes out, strangled by a sob.

Her breath hitches, straining to hear what he has to say through the deafening beating of her heart in her ears.

Just then, his head snaps to the side, his gaze darkening again. She shrieks as he harshly jerks her around in his arms, back pushed against his chest. His arm loosens around her wrist, only to snake its way around her neck before she can feel any relief. His hold is tight, but not crushing, as if he does not actually want to hurt her. She feels a cool pressure against the side of her temple, realising he must have his glock aimed at her.

Liz raises her gaze, eyes wide as Kate comes running towards them, her own weapon raised. She slows, beginning to approach carefully as her eyes flick nervously between the two of them and the gun aimed at her friend's head.

"Drop your weapon, now!" Kate yells, lifting her gun higher in front of her face.

He refuses. She can almost hear the gun squeak under Dot's tightening hold beside her ear.

Liz can feel the man begin to sway slightly behind her, his own legs beginning to falter just like her own. She hates herself for giving in to the exhaustion, leaning back against him just to remain standing, with her hands hanging limply at her sides.

He's trembling all over. Liz is unsure if he is making her shake too, or if that is her own nerves on fire.

"Drop them, hands over your head!" Kate yells again, urgently.

"Kate-" Dot practically gasps, helplessly.

Liz tries to stand again, willing her feet to hold her up. She fails, once again finding herself falling into him. His arm moves slightly further around her shoulders, his chin resting uneasily on the top of her head.

"Not here for you, then," Kate bites.

"Not yet," Dot cries, unconvincingly, "But they will be."

_Who's 'they'? Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?!_

"My advice, run now while you can," Dot says to Kate, his jaw shuddering against Liz's head.

"I'm not running," Kate spits, "You are."

Dot exhales, deeply, it coming out shakily, "You went into my flat last night. When I wasn't there."

Kate remains quiet, neither confirming nor denying it.

Liz frowns, the movement causing her head to ache more. That was why Kate had text about his whereabouts last night. _Why? What was in his flat?_

"When did you know?" Dot asks, his voice still flattering. The gun held against Liz's head shakes in his uneasy hold.

Kate shrugs, bitterly, her own hands shaking as they keep the gun pointed at him, "That would be telling."

The man behind Liz growls.

"I get it," Kate shouts, angrily, "Steve Arnott is The Caddy so you can retire."

"Something like that, yeah," the man admits, looking hastily around for any sign of a getaway vehicle.

"They picked you," Kate continues hounding, "Groomed you, guided your career. You know _everything_."

Liz can feel Dot shaking more furiously than before at the harsh truth. She wants to sob as reality sinks in.

Dot is The Caddy.

He always has been. He has played them from the beginning.

It was all a lie.

"What are you going to do, just stop?" Kate darkly chuckles, "What do you think they're going to do to you now?"

The man remains silent, just glaring at her as her words sink in. He is done for. He knows it.

"Dot," Liz hears herself croak, almost a whisper.

He freezes, though his hands continue to shake. The gun beside her head falters slightly, lowering at the sound of her broken voice. It is grounding him, even now.

Feeling his grip on her slacken slightly, she raises her arms to place her hands on his around her neck. Her thumbs slowly stroke it, feeling his shuddery breaths against her neck as his head dips down into the crook of it, tiredly.

"Please, whatever is going on," she swallows down a sob as she feels a wetness pool on her collarbone. He is crying, "we can help."

She can feel him shake his head where it rests against her shoulder. She continues to slowly caress his arm, feeling his breath slow where his chest presses against her back. His arms have loosened, but she remains standing there, holding onto him, fooling herself into it being an embrace. That she is getting somewhere.

Liz sighs, struggling to form words through the anxiety that has risen in her throat, "I can help you. If you will allow me to. We can get through this."

His head shakes a little more furiously, as if he is refusing to believe it. As if he cannot comprehend the notion. As if all is lost.

"We can't," he whispers, defeatedly.

"Why not?" she asks, softly, turning her head slowly to try and look at him.

Feeling her do so, he raises his head a little, looking down at her, eyes swollen with regret, "It's too late."

Liz shakes her head, still gazing up at him, desperately, "No. No, it's not. Please, Dot, just stop all this. We can work something out."

"We can't," he insists, again, voice breaking once more.

"There is only one way you can get out of this," Kate pleads, seeing Liz is getting the man to reconsider, "Patrick Fairbank."

Dot shudders at the name.

Kate continues, "They say he's going to get off for those child abuse charges. You know names, dates, places. You know all about monsters like him."

Liz continues to stare up at the man behind her, watching as his face contorts into disgust at whatever horrors he was involved in. She dreads to think.

"Confess," Kate urges, "Give us the names of all the people that have ruined all these people's lives. All these monsters _you've_ protected."

Liz closes her eyes briefly, feeling sick at the truth. _How can this be happening?_

"Dot," she says softly as she opens them again, seeing him turn to her, "Do the right thing. I know you. You can do this."

His eyes flicker wide for a moment, flooding with more tears. She can see the regret whirling in them. He's considering it

"Come back with me," she urges, still stroking at his arm, "There's still a chance."

He just stares at her. Liz hopes he can see the pleading look on her face, though fears she is not in control, the shock overpowering her.

"A chance?" he mutters, a brow quirking desperately.

She nods, her hands beginning to grip hopefully on his forearm, "For _you._ For _us_."

It is a lie, she thinks. She beats down any guilt; hasn't it _all_ been a lie?

No. Not all of it. It can't have been. If there is the slightest chance she can help, get him back on their side, work through the trauma driving him - it was worth it.

He remains quiet. But she knows he is contemplating it.

He lowers the gun, his arm dropping to his side, limp. His other arm remains around her shoulders, clinging on to her dismally. She keeps her hands there, willing him to find some comfort in it, or assurance.

She _does_ want to help. She means it.

"Please," Liz begs, helpless tears starting to fall down her own cheeks.

Something flashes in his eyes. She wants to believe it is hope.

It is interrupted by a black vehicle swerving around the corner, almost hitting into Kate, knocking her to the ground. The firearm skids across the street, the woman curling into herself, crying out in pain.

Liz goes to call for her, concerned for her friend, but is forced quiet by Dot once again taking a strong hold of her, one arm wrapping around her waist as the other tightens around her shoulders. She tries to wriggle, to break free, but finds herself pulled away by him and forced into the back seat of the car that has come to a stop beside them.

In a panic, once Dot releases her slightly to get in himself, Liz tries to crawl over the backseat away to the door on the other side. As her hand reaches out to open it and break free, his arms wrap around her waist again, pulling her onto his lap. She pushes against him, but he is too strong, her energy drained from the chase and onslaught of emotion.

"Go, go!" he shouts to whoever is driving, reaching out to slam the door shut beside them. Liz's wide eyes look over to where Kate struggles to stand from the floor before the door closes fully, the car then driving around the corner and out of sight.

The tires screech as the vehicle speeds away. Liz, still struggling against his hold where she is forced onto his lap, glances around at the two other men, clad in black riot gear with heavy weapons in their holds. One of them claws out for her, Liz attempting to kick their hands away as she still forlornly finds herself clinging to Dot.

"What will we do with her?" one of the men rumbles, still leaning over the seat to grab at her, "Put her with the others? Ship her off?"

As she futilely continues to kick out, trying to shake the man's grip off her ankle, she feels the man beneath her lean forward, wrapping his hands around her leg and pulling it away. He tucks her into him, his arm enclosing around her, tightly and desperately.

"Don't you touch her!" Dot screeches, out of breath, "None of you are to touch her!"

His own hands claw against her, pulling her further into him as if trying to get her as far away from the other men in the car as possible despite the close proximity. She circles her arms around his neck fiercely, leaning her face onto his shoulder, sobs beginning to wrack her body. Liz curses herself for still trying to find some sort of comfort from the man.

 _He_ has put her in danger. _He_ is the man they have been looking for. _He_ is to blame.

She clearly has not processed it all yet. It did not make any sense.

He is still Matthew Cottan. _Her_ Matthew Cottan. Wasn't he?

Dot's hand grips onto the side of her face, pulling it upward to look at him, the other possessively pulling her body into his.

"I am not going to let anything happen to you," he aggressively asserts, his hands shaking frightfully as he glares into her gaze, "No. I won't!"

Liz does not know how to react, both wanting to lean into his touch and believe him, and push away screaming.

What does he even mean? What could happen to her? And what did they mean by 'putting her with the others'?

_WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!_

Liz tears her gaze away from him, shaking her head out of his hands, turning to look out the window to see wherever they were taking them. As they cross the bridge, Liz almost screams as she sees Kate emerge from the stairwell, her gun raising as the car poasses. Liz twists herself to put a hand against the window, hitting it out of desperation. Kate catches her eye, afraid, lowering her gun when she realises she does not have a clear shot. Liz continues to slam her fist against the glass as she watches the woman disappear out of view.

Once the vehicle has cleared the bridge, Dot reaches over Liz to take her hands away from the window and clasp them in his.

"Liz-"

"Why are you doing this?" she cries, feeling her limbs collapse out of exhaustion. Her head falls back onto his shoulder, hands no longer resisting in his hold.

He sucks in a shaky breath, hands holding her closer, placing his head on top of hers.

"I'm sorry."

Liz winces at that.

She understands now. All those times he apologised to her and she did not know his reasons.

This is what he was hiding.

She begins to sob, harder, at this realisation.

All those moments shared between them; the praises, the assurances, the vulnerability, the _kiss_.

What did it mean, now? Nothing. It was all a lie.

Suddenly, a shattering sound is heard, the car beginning to swerve uncontrollably. Liz grips onto the man beneath her tighter as her eyes snap to the driver's seat. There is a bullet hole in the window, the glass broken. There is blood on the seat. The driver has been shot.

The vehicle is out of control.

She feels Dot grip onto her harder, in an attempt to support them for impact. The car slams into something, the force of it whipping their heads to smash against the windows and seats.

Liz blacks out for a moment.

The pain in her head is blinding.

Peeling her eyes open, alerted by the noise of the car alarm blaring, Liz shrieks as blood drips down into her vision onto her cheek. Turning her head slowly to the side, she sees Dot's head is bleeding profusely where it leans against the back of the seat. His hold is now limp around her.

This is her chance.

Slamming her back against the now-broken door, Liz shuffles slightly, eventually falling backwards out of the vehicle. The back of her head cracks slightly as it impacts the ground.

But she is free.

Taking a moment to recuperate, Liz pushes herself up on her elbows, slowly as to not agitate the gaping, bloodied wound she feels pouring from her head.

Her eyes flick up to Dot as she sees him stir in the seat, eyes blinking open before snapping around hastily, searching for her. Their eyes meet.

Liz hurries to push herself up from the ground, ignoring the searing pain and flashing lights obstructing her vision, frenzied to get away before he can grasp her again. She seems him reach out from the corner of her eye, slowly peeling himself out of the vehicle. She manages to dodge his swinging arm, stumbling away as she attempts to run.

"Liz!"

She turns from the vehicle completely at the sound of her name being called.

"Kate!" she gasps, her throat feeling as though it has been torn to shreds, trying to run slightly towards the woman but finding herself unable to move.

Kate still has her grip on the gun, looking over Liz as the women near each other, eyes lingering worriedly on her forehead.

"You alright?" Kate asks her, concerned, struggling to catch her breath.

Liz tries to respond, but a strained noise bubbles out of her throat like bile.

She turns around, prompting the other woman to follow her gaze and look to the vehicle. Kate steps in front of her, defensively, raising her gun again as Dot stumbles out of the car, collapsing on the ground before trying to stand. The wound on his head staining his collar crimson.

Liz finds herself stepping around Kate to go to him, to help. Kate holds out an arm, the other still holding up the gun, but Liz manages to gather the energy to push past it, taking a few slow steps towards the man.

He pulls out the gun before he realises she is doing so.

Liz falters, taking a slight stumble backwards at the sight of it aimed toward her. Her arms slowly rise a little, in some sort of pathetic surrender.

His eyes droop as he looks at her, filling once again with hot tears. His unsteady hand shakes the firearm.

"Drop the gun!" Kate shouts behind her, unsure whether to move and step in, not wanting to trigger his reflexes and make him fire.

Dot trips as he takes a step forward, turning the gun away from Liz to point it at Kate, though his eyes remain fixated on her. Liz can only stare back, unable to form a thought.

"Dot," Liz warns, though her voice comes out quiet, _tired_ , "Put it down."

He shakes his head slowly, raising the gun higher as his legs tremble.

"Give in," Kate urges, yelling, "It's too late-"

"No!" Liz finds the nerve to shout, "It is _not_ too late!"

Just as back at the flyover, he is listening. She can tell by the way his eyes gaze longingly at her.

She takes a wary step forward again, ignoring Kate's protests.

"Come back with me," she pleads, her shaking arms raising slowly as she takes a few more steps forward. He just watches her, silent tears streaking through the blood on his cheeks, "Put the gun down and take my hand."

Liz watches as his arm falters, lowering the gun slightly before he seems to shake himself out of it, holding it towards Kate, determinedly. His eyes betray him. They are still desolately desperate as they turn down to her now outstretched hand.

"You can trust me," she pleads, reaching out as she comes closer, repeating her words from just last night, "You said you wanted me beside you. And I will be. As long as you need."

She almost wants to laugh at how bitter the words are now, the difference only a few hours have made. She means it, of course she does. At least, she thinks so. But it will never be how it was. It can't be.

He knows that. He has to. But hopefully, if he really is still the Dot she thought she knew, he will understand. He will listen.

She is in front of him now, Dot looking down at her despondently, gun still outstretched. Her heart beats wildly as she carefully reaches up, placing a gentle hand on the arm that holds it there. He flinches at the touch, but immediately seems to soften somewhat, eyes never leaving hers.

"I never wanted any of this," he cries, ever tear shattering her heart piece by piece.

"I know."

He begins to lower his arm.

"I just want it to be over."

"And it can be."

He is listening to her, trusting her.

"I never had a choice. I was so young..."

"You have a choice, now," she whispers, willing him to believe her.

He drops the gun to the floor, his shaky hand moving down to her open palm.

She lets out a relieved breath - he is going to come with her.

Dot allows Liz to take hold of his hand, fingers entwining with each other.

Liz sends him a soft, relieved smile. He is going to end this. He _is_ the Dot she thinks she knows.

The man blinks back a few tears, unable to tear his gaze away from her. The pair breathe, heads beginning to clear as they soak up sobriety.

Before either can think of what to say, Dot's eyes jump to something beyond her shoulder. They widen, flicking to her briefly again before turning back, setting themselves on whatever was behind her.

Liz feels him tug at her wrist, much like he had done during the chase, twisting her around so that she is behind him. She stumbles at the force of it, falling to the ground.

" _NO!"_

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

He shouts. Three gunshots.

Whipping her aching head around to where Dot was just standing, she sees Kate aiming her gun and firing at a man in the back of the vehicle. He collapses against the backseat, wounded, the weapon falling to the ground. Kate then turns, her eyes wide with fear as she looks to something on the ground a few feet ahead of Liz.

Following the woman's gaze, Liz gasps, the air scratching against her lungs.

Dot.

Crawling over desperately along the ground to where he lies, Liz feels her heart stop at the sight. He lays strewn across the grass, arms outstretched at his side. Three tears leak crimson through his white shirt. Bullet holes.

Liz only stares, kneeling on the ground a few paces away, mind clouding over with dread.

He blinks.

That seems to trigger something in her, forcing her to pull herself along the grass over to him, despite the excruciating pain it causes. Reaching his side, she looks to his chest first, the blood pooling, drenching his clothes and the soil around him.

She reaches out before she thinks. Her hands desperately press against the wounds, blood staining them instantly. His chest rises and falls rapidly under her hold, each breath sounding ragged and broken. The sound of it aches in her chest.

It is all she can hear besides the approaching sirens.

"Everyone get back now!" she hears someone shout, too fixated on the way the redness is seeping through her fingers to look up at whoever is shouting.

"I'm AC-12! She's with me!" Liz can hear Kate shout back, her footsteps coming closer as she comes to kneel on the other side of him.

Liz does not remove her gaze from the wounds, unable to, as she sees Kate reach up to the man's neck from the corner of her eye. She hears Kate curse, though refuses to let that be a bad sign.

She presses down harder on the wounds, willing them to close. People are moving all around her, but they do unnoticed.

She flinches at the feeling of something warm and wet against the side of her face. As if awoken from a trance, she snaps her gaze to Dot's face, seeing his eyes turned towards her. They are dull, yet she can see the remaining glint of despair. It is his hand on her cheek. She can barely feel his palm against her due to how limply he is able to hold it up. So, she leans into it, paying no mind to the blood it is spreading there.

His mouth opens wider as he struggles to breathe, the strangled sound worsening with every attempt.

She leans down closer to him, removing her hands from where they hopelessly had tried to block his wounds. They rest against the hand and wrist he held up to her, grasping onto it fearfully. His pulse is weak beneath her finger. She shudders, gripping tighter.

That's when she hears it. A noise escaping his throat.

He is trying to speak.

She gazes at him, questioningly, through her tears that refused to override the shock.

Kate leans forward too, swallowing down her own distress to pull her phone out of her pocket and record whatever he says.

Liz leans closer, still holding his hand against her face.

The sound is strangled, unintelligible. But she strains, determined to hear him.

"Get away from him now!" a voice behind them shouts.

"I'm taking his dying declaration!" Kate shouts over her shoulder, infuriated, "Stand down!"

She holds the phone closer to his mouth, wary not to intrude too much as he looks up at Liz and her down at him. But they need this, whatever he is going to say.

"Come on, Dot," she urges, "Say it."

Liz can hardly make out words, only having the energy to strain enough to hear 'Fairbank' and a few other names she did not recognise.

Her mind is too overwhelmed by the feeling of his bloodied hand on her face and the gaping wounds on his chest.

When he finishes speaking, his eyes turn back to her. She shifts her weight, moving slightly closer, wrapping her hands fiercely around his hand and wrist. Her silent tears fall on his face, washing away some of the blood that is beginning to crust there.

"I'm here," she whispers, Dot coughing slightly as if he wants to respond, despite his body failing him.

He looks right at her.

His eyes dull.

His breath stops.

His hand falls limp.

_He's gone._

Liz keeps her hand wrapped around his wrist, still holding his lifeless hand up to her cheek.

Her eyes cannot move away from his. All that emotion, all that conflict, all that _life_. Gone.

She hears Kate curse again on the other side of him, a hand then reaching over and placing itself on her shoulder.

Liz shrugs it off.

"Come on, mate," Kate sighs, her voice wobbling from her own grief, "The paramedics are here."

 _It's too late,_ she thinks, bitterly, recalling the many times Dot had said that to her.

A group of footsteps come running up behind her, flashes of yellow and green dotting her peripheral. She can hear muffled voices, people shouting, sirens wailing.

Yet, she cannot let go. She cannot look away.

She said she would be there.

"Miss, you need to give us space," one of the paramedics instructs as they surround her, kneeling beside the dead man's head.

Tears are falling, still dampening the man's cheeks. But she cannot cry, nor speak, nor _think_.

Kate's hand rests on her shoulder again, the woman now having stood to move behind her, making room for the medics.

_What good are they now? He's gone._

It scares Kate how still her friend is sitting beside the body, expression blank.

Kate had come to view the man as a friend herself, surprisingly. But, from what she could see and what Liz told her, things went beyond that between the pair. Whether it was deceitful or not, Liz's heart is undoubtedly broken. She knows how much the man came to mean to her.

But she also knows how much another man means to her, and how they need to get moving if they were to get him out of that cell.

"We need to take this back to the office," Kate says, gesturing to the phone, speaking softly in her friend's ear, "We need to get Steve."

That name seems to will the woman to listen, her head turning slightly, eyes finally defocusing from the dead man. She gently lowers his lifeless arm, her fingers lingering gently around his hand for a moment before pulling away, her eyes closing, pushing out a few hot tears. Her hands fall against her sides on the grass, her slowly rubbing them against it, trying to wipe away the blood.

She is covered in it. Her knees from where it pooled on the ground, her hands from where she tried to block the wounds, her head from her own wound from the crash, and, perhaps most cruel of all, a bloodied hand print against her cheek. Dot's hand.

It is as if the woman is in a daze. Her eyes are dark and devoid. Her palms brush slowly against the ground, doing little to actually remove the stains there.

She wishes Liz would sob or scream or - something, _anything_. This vacancy was terrifying.

Kate bends down, taking the woman's hands in her own, finding the sight too upsetting to bare. She pulls the woman up, concerned by the way her friend seems to have little power over her exhausted limbs, resting her weight against her.

Liz almost collapses into her side once she is on her feet, unstable. Her eyes trail back to the body, lost in her head. She shudders, a coughing sound rising up her throat as her chest convulses, as if she is going to vomit. Kate pulls the woman away a few steps, turning her so she blocks her view. Liz seems to swallow whatever has risen, her head uncontrollably rolling forward against Kate's shoulder. The woman pulls the other into her, wrapping her arms around her comfortingly, rubbing her palm up and down her back.

Kate sighs, watching as paramedics and officers scrambled about the scene, Dot's bloody body lying motionless in the centre.

This was all a huge fucking mess.


	34. Chapter Thirty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so pleased with the reaction to the last chapter! can only hope you continue to enjoy where this goes. there will be a lot of original content between the next few seasons as we rekindle our favourite relationship between Liz and Steve! I am really, really excited! as always, make sure to leave comments and feedback but most of all enjoy!

The cell door creaks open, an officer looking down at him where he sits on the hard stone block he has called a bed the last few nights.

He anticipates another berating, another harsh chide spat his way.

"You're free to go," the officer says instead, turning her back on him and walking away, leaving the cell door wide open.

 _What?_ he frowns, _Is this some kind of sick joke?_

He remains sitting, still, too wary to move in case this is some kind of trick. He cautiously leans forward, trying to see around the doorway if anyone is standing there laughing at him. Waiting for him to slip up… again.

A figure moves slowly around the doorframe, then.

"Kate?" he croaks, not having spoken in days, throat sore from sobs.

She takes a few steps into the cell, a small smile on her face, "Who else would it be?"

Steve exhales, feeling tears prick his eyes. He sniffs to hold them back, throwing his head into his hands. He looks up at her again, just to make sure, seeing the relieved expression she is sending him, encouraging him to believe it.

_I'm actually free?_

He stands, pushing himself off by the wall, shakily stepping towards her. Steve bites back tears as Kate's arms wrap around him, also exhaling herself as she squeezes.

He had thought she abandoned him. Believed him to be what they accused him of being. He thought they all did.

But had they always believed him? What changed?

Kate must have found something. Something that proved his innocence. That he was framed, caught up in all this by accident. All he was guilty of was making one stupid mistake after the other. _Conspiracy, blackmail, murder?_ No. He hoped they knew him better than that.

It seemed Kate did.

As she said, who else _would_ it be?

Of course there _is_ someone else. At least, he hopes...

"Lizzie?" Steve finds himself asking after her, unable to think of anything else once she crosses his mind. The woman in his arms leans back as he does, smiling endeared at the apprehension she sees on his face at mention of the other woman.

Kate lowers her arms, taking a step back and turning to the doorway.

Steve almost gasps as she appears. _Lizzie_...

She is looking to the floor, eyes rimmed red and bloodshot. Her cheeks are wet from old tears, her hair wet as if it has been washed, her cheeks furiously red as if they have been scrubbed, her hands pale and shaking as they play with the hem of her tracksuit, one similar to Kate's, clearly provided to them by the force.

_What happened?_

Before he has the chance to ask, his feet take him hastily closer, the young woman finally looking up at him as he does, eyes blurred with unfallen cries. She reaches her shaking arms out, practically falling into his own as he circles them around her shoulders. Liz grips his prisoner sweatshirt around the back of his waist, pulling herself as closely as possible. Steve winds a hand into her somewhat matted damp hair, cradling the back of her head as he presses his face into the crook of her neck, soaking in her warmth.

He can feel her crying, the tears soaking through his sweatshirt onto his chest. He struggles to hold back his own, now crying freely onto her shoulder. He moves his arm further around her, trapping her tightly against him, feeling encouraged and endeared as he feels her do the same around his own waist. The way she tugs at his sweatshirt almost chokes him, pressing it down onto his neck. But he doesn't say anything. Too lost in the embrace to care.

He feels her sigh, her hot breath seeping through his clothing, warming the area just above his heart. He can feel her heart thrum against his own, both drumming against each other in a wild beat.

She sobs, hiccups occasionally escaping as they get caught in her throat. In fact, as he listens closer, he is sure some of those sounds are coming from _him_ too.

"I'll be just outside," Kate says, quietly, moving past the pair to the door, neither of them even remembering she was there.

Steve pulls back slightly, awoken from his weeping daze, moving his hands up to cup the woman's face. Liz flinches at the cruelly familiar gesture that she struggles to believe she could ever find comforting again. _He_ had held her somewhat like that, just before he...

But soon, she melts into it, moving her own hands to place them against his chest.

Her eyes don't quite meet his as he stares down at her, embarrassed at her state. Liz is sure she looks terrible. She had tried to scrub away every speck of… blood… from her body in the hours they waited for the evidence to be processed and the request for Steve to be released approved. But she still felt it. On her face, in her hair, under her nails. It would never go away, she doubts. Her eyes were sore, her throat raw, every muscle screaming at her to relax. But how could she? After all that?

Steve's eyes rake over her, inspecting every inch of her face. His brow furrows, concerned. Her face heats, eyes still looking anywhere but him. That is, until he speaks.

"What happened?"

She closes her eyes, inhaling sharply through her nose in an attempt to ground herself. Liz can feel her thoughts begin to run from her, escaping their confinements to cause havoc.

She doesn't want to talk about it. Not yet.

She can feel herself begin to panic again, but the soothing way the cool pad of Steve's thumb caresses her cheek helps a little.

He seems to understand, refraining from asking again. He will find out from the others eventually. Liz will tell him when she is ready.

She hears him sigh, peeking her eyes open to see him glaring at the gash on her forehead, cutting through her hairline. The medics, already present at the AC-12 office due to the officer who had been shot, had already looked at it, cleaning the wound and stitching it. It looks hideous.

He ghosts a thumb gently over it, then moves his gaze down to look at her again, staring up at him.

His chest aches.

She studies him, then. The darkness encircling his eyes, like bruises. The grey pallor of his skin. His chapped lips.

Liz reaches up her own hands, cupping his face too.

She lets herself smile, slightly, the sensation burning. The fingers of one hand brush against his jawline, feeling the stubble that has grown out there.

"Ever thought about growing out your beard?" her voice cracks as she speaks, though he is relieved to see the amused glint in her eye, brightening her face slightly, "It would suit you."

He chuckles, humoured and taken back by her quip, not having expected her to be making a joke by the state she looked to be in, "You think?"

She hums in acknowledgement, eyes grazing over the space where her fingers touch.

After a moment of taking him in, relieved she has the chance to see him again like this, a single tear trails down her cheek. He wipes it away with his thumb.

They can only stare, holding each other's faces.

But soon, Liz's thoughts begin to cloud over.

"Steve, I-"

"Don't," he insists, shaking his head slightly, brows turned upwards in frustrated concern at what she was about to say, "Please, don't."

She has no reason to apologise. He had thought she turned her back on him. And it hurt. It _really_ hurt.

But Lizzie was here with him, now. It seems she always had been.

That meant more to him than anything else.

He wraps his arms around her again, pulling her once more into his chest. She does not hesitate to return it, gripping gently onto the back of his sweatshirt again, pulling him closer. Steve hopes that tells her all she needs to know; that she is forgiven. Not that she needs to be. Liz hopes the same for him.

A knock on the door has them both turning around, arms slowly and regrettably falling to their sides, though a few fingers find themselves entangling with the others, neither ready to let go just yet with both afraid the other will disappear and be taken from them again.

"We should go," Kate says, smiling softly as she looks between them.

Steve smiles, a few stray tears falling again as he releases a heavy breath. Liz turns and looks back up at him with a squeeze of his fingers, smiling too, as brightly as she can.

* * *

Steve sits in the back of Kate's car, Liz beside him. The woman offered to drive them both back to Liz's, with Steve's apartment being cleared up by the forensic search team that had occupied it for the past week. Gratefully, Kate managed to drop by and grab some clothes for him on their way to pick him up from the holding cell. He's not even sure if he wants to go back to his own place just yet, with Sam having broken up with him the day before, and seeing the police tape and forensics equipment strewn around his space. The reminders that anonymous bodies have inspected it, picking apart every aspect of his personal life and displaying it bare for all to see and scrutinise. No, Liz's flat is the best place for him to be. That's where he wants to be now anyway. Where he has wanted to be since they locked him up in that dank room. With _her_.

He rests his head on the back of the seat, taking deep breaths, enjoying the freedom of it as the world passes by out the open window. Those few days in that cell had been some of the worst of his life. Dark, suffocating, painful. But not as painful as the days leading up to it. Thinking they had all turned their backs on him, even Liz. Seeing the way they had looked at him from the other side of that interview table. It was hell.

Looking over to the woman beside him, he takes a moment to study her, particularly the way her pale face reflects the moonlight, highlighting the stress lines he sees protruding there.

"What happened?"

The two women seem to tense as he asks it aloud, Kate gripping the steering wheel tighter where she sits in the front and Liz shifting in her seat to the window more, her face turning further away from him.

Kate clears her throat, knowing the other woman will not want to speak, "You were right. It was Dot. He set you up. He's The Caddy."

Steve sucks in another breath, his head dizzying at the concept. He had not been sure, had even hoped it would be otherwise, but looking back it made sense.

"Has he been arrested?"

The women tense more, if possible.

He hears Liz whimper quietly beside him.

"He's dead."

Steve sighs at Kate's reveal, throwing his head back again and rubbing the space between his brows with his fingers, trying to relieve the ache that was growing there.

_Shit._

He turns to look at the woman beside him, hearing her sniff deeply a few times, though quietly as if to not bring attention to herself. He knows, though. She is crying.

He reaches his hand over slowly, resting his fingers over hers where they fidget in her lap. She responds to his touch immediately, turning her palm so her fingers can lock between his. Steve gives them a comforting squeeze, stroking his thumb back and forth to sync with her breathing. He watches as she wipes at her face, still looking away from him out the window.

Steve frowns, still not having the full story, but knowing how upset Liz must be at his passing and deceit. He wants to know more, needs to. Especially considering how much this concerns him. His head hurts trying to comprehend it all and fit things together until he is briefed.

But Lizzie is his priority right now. She is hurting, and he needs to be there for her.

Just as she has been for him.

"Look after him, yeah?" Kate says to Liz as they pull up outside her apartment building.

Liz wipes once more at her face, sniffing, "Thank you, Kate. Really, for everything."

The woman smiles, sadly, knowing she means for more than just the lift home. She watches as Liz opens the car door, stepping out and closing it behind her.

Steve waits behind, watching as Liz walks to her door before turning to Kate.

"What happened?" he asks again, hoping for a more detailed answer, assuming Kate had kept it brief to avoid upsetting Liz who was clearly distraught.

"Trying to make sense of it all myself," Kate sighs, looking down to her hands in her lap, "I wouldn't know where to begin."

"With Liz," Steve urges, only caring about the elements that involved her and the reasons she was in such a state. How else could he best support her?

She tells him. The list Lizzie made, the evidence, the chase, the shooting. All of it.

The way Dot held Liz hostage, the way she almost talked the man out of it, the way she was hurt in the crash, the way she managed to convince him to lower his gun, the way the man had jumped in front of the bullet to save her, how she crawled over to his body, pressing her hands to the wounds desperately, how he reached up and held her face as he recorded his dying declaration, how she could not move when he took his last breath, how she hadn't spoken until they were in that cell together an hour ago.

He feels sick.

Not for Dot, not about his duplicity, not about the abuse, not about the wider conspiracy - that all lingers quietly and fuzzily in the back of his mind - but Lizzie. _Oh, God_.

"Shit," Steve exclaims, processing it all.

"I know," Kate sighs.

" _Shit_ ," he repeats as it hits him.

The pair sit in silence for a moment, Steve trying to comprehend it and Kate doing the same, remembering the blank look on her friend's face when she pulled her away from the body. It still scares her.

"Well, thanks, mate," Steve reaches for the door handle with a sigh, but Kate calls out to him. He turns to her, curious.

"It's Liz you want to thank," Kate says, sincerely, looking at him over the seat, "She was the one who never gave up on you. Doubt she ever will."

Steve nods, throat suddenly dry, unsure what to say. He opens the door, closing it behind him and jogging around the car to catch up with Liz. With one final wave back at Kate before she drives away, Steve approaches Liz where she stands by her open front door, waiting for him to come in.

She shuts the door behind him, both standing in her hallway for a moment, neither sure what to say or do now.

A silence falls over them. But it is comfortable. Familiar. Soothing.

"You need a shower," Liz says, the hint of a smile on her face as she looks him over.

He looks down at himself, rubbing the beginnings of his beard and cringing at the prisoner tracksuit he still wears. He huffs, amused, "Yeah, I really do."

Steve takes the small pile of clothes from her arms, sending her a small smile. She looks up at him, her eyes not quite as bright as he remembered when he was sitting alone in that cell. He had longed to see them again, though worried to see them so dull when he did. But they are soft. Forgiving. Comforting. Not the strained, conflicted gaze he had suffered under in the weeks previous, the look that had scared him more than anything else.

"Thank you," he says, quietly, choked. It is not enough - it never will be - but it is all he has right now.

She looks away from him to her feet, her eyes sparking slightly and her cheeks tinting pink before turning her back on him and heading to the kitchen.

"I'll put the kettle on."

* * *

The scalding water did little to ease the tension in his shoulders and neck, but Steve revelled in the feeling anyway.

Throwing on his joggers and shirt, he hastily leaves the bathroom, eager to get back to Liz and check up on how she is doing.

He hears a tap running as he walks down her hallway, approaching the kitchen. Turning slowly into the room, he sees her bent over the sink, scrubbing furiously at her hands with soap. Steve slowly moves closer, wary of her state. The backs of her hands are red raw from the violent friction. He can see her nails have been cut away, aggressively shortened. Her eyes, silent tears streaking down her face, are glossed over in some sort of crazed daze as she fixates on the scouring of her palms and fingers.

Kate had said she used her hands to try and stop the bleeding on Cottan's chest. That her hands had been covered in his blood.

He knows trauma when he sees it.

He can't watch anymore.

Moving over quickly, he gently takes hold of her hands in one of his, the other reaching over her to turn off the tap. Liz flinches, eyes snapping up to his face, bewildered. They then flick down to her hands again where they flop limply in his hold, the redness causing her eyes to widen and more tears to fall as she realises what she was doing. He looks down to her hands too, moving his own slightly to see bruising around one of her wrists.

That must be from where Cottan dragged her.

Steve's hold loosens then, wary of hurting her more or reminding her, in any way, of what had happened earlier that day. Steve slips his hand down to hold one of hers, grabbing a tea towel to gently dry their hands. Then, with her still gazing up at him, rattled, he leads her over to the sofa where he sits beside her, a hand still enclosed around hers.

He shudders at the coldness of her hand and gaze.

"Steve-" Liz croaks, her breath hitching as she grips his hand.

"Don't," he shakes his head, knowing she is wanting to apologise. She has nothing to apologise for. Nothing.

Steve wraps his other arm around her shoulders and pulls her into him. She tiredly and eagerly collapses into his hold, resting her head on his shoulder and squeezing her eyes shut. His hand clamps a little tighter around her, encouraged by her response. He looks down at her, catching her eye, "Let's put some crappy telly on, eh?"

She lets out what sounds like an amused huff, him feeling her nod against his chest. He leans forward slightly, careful not to jolt her too much or prompt her to move, enjoying the comforting touch. Pulling her laptop over closer to them he opens it, finding some random documentary on the BBC website for them to watch, it not really mattering, he presses play.

The two of them sit there like that, with the sound from the laptop filling the silence, with neither of them knowing what to say - or having the energy to.

He glances down at her after a while, wincing at the way her eyes have glossed over again, looking at the screen but not quite focussing on it. Steve has no doubt she is replaying everything over and over in her head - just as he is. But worse, so much worse. He dreads to think what this will do to her, what it _is_ doing to her. All he knows is that he is going to be there, right by her side, whatever happens now.

Lizzie never abandoned him. Never turned her back on him for a second. Kate said she had gone out of her way to pick up leads, jotting down anything she though irregular that could help him, knowing it not to be her place but doing so anyway. The woman had told him, if it were not for Liz, she would not have realised she was looking at things too objectively. Treating him like another case, not her friend.

But Lizzie knows him. Better than all of them. And she fought for him. _Again_.

Of course she was conflicted. He would be too. The evidence planted against him was convincing, even convincing himself, somewhat, that he was to blame.

But he _is_ , isn't he?

He ignored her warnings time and time again, making terrible decision after terrible decision. He was playing into their hands - she had told him that - but he had been deafened by his own arrogance. He hates himself for it.

Yet, after all that, after all he did to her, she stood by him.

And he will never forget it.

Eventually, Lizzie begins to relax against his side, her head drooping further onto his chest as her eyes flutter closed. She fights it for a while, Steve not wanting to say or do anything that might discourage her from giving in and sleeping. When she finally does, her breathing becoming softer and her frown easing into a more peaceful expression, he slowly nudges her with his shoulder, using his arms to gently place her head against his lap where his legs are outstretched on the sofa. Hers are already tucked up into herself, one of her arms strewn over his thigh with the other where he has placed it delicately under the side of her face, leaning against it.

He pauses the documentary, supposing he should try to sleep himself. It is not the most comfortable position he has ever tried to sleep in, but anything is better than that brick slab he was forced to lie on in that cell. In fact, being here with Liz is better than anything.

He looks down at her as he feels himself start to drift, the hand not already wrapped over her shoulders coming to stroke the side of her face, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen there, careful to not irritate her wound. He tucks them behind her ear, slowly, noting her hair does not feel as soft as he remembers, from where she has clearly vigorously washed it a few hours ago.

But it comforts him anyway.

Her eyelashes rest against her skin, the peace bringing about a more colourful rouge hue to her cheeks. The crease that had cut between her brows has eased too, her face immediately becoming more gentle, sleep bringing about a tranquillity he had hoped to see when they were reunited.

His hand moves upward to her hairline, fingers stroking carefully across the stitches that corrupt it. Steve can feel himself start to choke up, outraged by the events that caused it.

Those stitches, that wound, is on him. A consequence of his own stupidity. None of it would have happened if he had not been so bloody stupid and selfish and-

_Why did any of it have to happen? Why did it have to happen to us? Why did it have to happen to her?_

_What do they do now?_

He takes a breath.

There will be plenty of time for pity and planning. They will talk about it when they are both ready to. For now, they need to rest.

With one last glance to the woman resting on his lap, vowing to never let her get hurt again. He will be the man she believes him to be. For her.

Steve closes his eyes, immediately and thankfully succumbing to sleep himself.

* * *

Liz wakes up the next morning to the smell of cooking. Lifting her head, stretching it slightly to relieve a crick there, she realises she must have fallen asleep on the sofa. She sits up, rubbing her eyes, still sore from salty tears.

After a moment of rested bliss, it all comes flooding back. Everything that happened the day before. She moves her hands up to her head, leaning forward so her elbows rest on her knees.

She wants to cry again.

Memories of Dot, memories of her mother's passing, feelings of grief, feelings of confusion, thoughts of Kate, thoughts of Ted, Steve-

_Steve._

_Where is he?_

Her heart flutters as she looks around the room, knowing they had been sitting together on the sofa, not remembering actually having fallen asleep.

Turning her head to her kitchen, she sees him there, with his back to her, facing the oven hob. She breathes out in relief, standing from the sofa to make her way over. He turns as she does, hearing her sniff back some tears.

Steve sends her a small smile, Liz trying to do the same but knowing it probably looks strained.

"How did you sleep?" he asks, rubbing his hands on his trousers.

She shrugs, the ache in her shoulders worsening as she does, "Ok. You?"

He turns away from her then, back to the hob, smile falling, "Yeah, fine."

He is lying again.

 _Didn't take him long,_ Liz thinks, bitterly, immediately berating herself for doing so, knowing he just does not want to worry her.

She looks beyond him to whatever has his attention in the hob, seeing two pans. One is full of four slices of sizzling bacon, the other full of some sort of mixture she assumes is eggs. Her heart warms.

"Hope you don't mind," he says, bashfully now that she is awake and just staring at him, awed, "Thought we could do with some proper food."

She shakes her head, her insides on fire with endearment, "No, of course. Thank you."

He nods, studying her carefully as she looks to the food. The worry-lines have reappeared, a sharp crease defining her brow. There is darkness encircling her eyes, a cruel contrast to her pale skin.

He had managed to get at least an hour altogether. That was more than he had in the last week. So that was something.

She had slept the whole night through. Still, other than the occasional whimper. Steve found himself just looking at her, trying to work out what was floating around in her head. The worry kept him up more than anything else.

But she doesn't need to know that.

"You should shower," he suggests, Liz looking up at him again, "I'll be finished in a few minutes."

She nods, agreeing. She felt awful.

Liz can still feel it. The blood. _His_ blood.

Even as the water runs down her body, her mind tricks her into thinking it is hot, thick crimson. Under the stream, she looks down to her hands, eyeing the bruise that has formed around her wrist from where he had pulled her along with him. The backs of them are red, scratches lining the surface from where she had furiously scrubbed at them. She had cut down her nails - being tempted to bite at them if not for the feeling of his blood beneath them. They looked terrible now. Jagged, short and chipped. They hurt when they catch her skin as she lathers her body clean.

Even her hair seemed to torment her now, the redness reminding her of the darker red that had stained it. Liz had washed it through at least three times since. But nothing could stop the itching of her scalp or her compulsion to cut it away.

Her cheek stings. The area where his hand held her burning whenever she thinks of it. It aches her jaw, grinding her teeth together, biting back sobs.

Water hits her face, streaming down her cheeks and dropping to the floor. Liz can't tell if it is the shower or her own tears anymore. It seems she has little control over it, unable to stop herself.

Wrapping herself in a towel and redressing, wrapping her wet hair into a bun, loathing the feeling of it dripping down her neck.

Taking a breath, she walks back to the kitchen, her heart melting at the sight of Steve plating up the eggs, a tea towel draped domestically over his shoulder. He looks up at her as she approaches, sending another familiar smile before putting the pan down. Throwing the towel onto the side, he takes a seat, urging her to do the same.

She slips into it, reaching for the hot mug of tea he has made her, looking down at her plate of food. Her stomach churns looking at it. But she _will_ eat it after he has gone to all that trouble. She will force herself to.

He picks up a fork as she thanks him, taking a mouthful.

"My pleasure," he says as he wolfs down another bite, hungrier than he had originally thought. It felt good to eat food. Proper food. Not gruel. And without an officer's spit in it.

Steve looks over to Liz as he swallows another mouthful, seeing her push the food around on the plate with her fork, absentmindedly. She stares down at it, distracted.

He pauses eating, concerned for whatever is on her mind. She seems to notice his pause, shaking her head and scooping up some egg, embarrassed he had caught her and not wanting to seem ungrateful.

But Steve understands.

She catches his gaze as she swallows, hard, "Thank you, it's really nice."

"Not sure how you like your eggs, so just went with scrambled," he comments, dumbly, unsure what else to say.

She looks back down to her plate, nodding gratefully, her eye brightening a little as she recalls something, "My mum always made me scrambled eggs. Every day before school. Not exactly special but she used to add milk to the mixture. Made them more fluffy."

"Noted," he says, a gentle smile curling his lips as he sees her face liven slightly at the memory. She blushes, unsure why she had told him that.

It seems strange. To talk about anything else. Anything that isn't what everything is.

They fall into another silence, both thinking it. They both struggle to find anything else to talk about, their minds still processing it all. Or, at least, trying to. Liz shudders, wondering how long it will be until they can move on, if they ever can. There was more to this than just Dot. And the pain at the memory of him, his body lying there, was excruciating enough.

"What will you do now?" she asks him, to distract herself.

"Not sure, guess I'll see when I get back to the office," Steve shrugs, swallowing another fork-full of egg.

"You're staying with us? At AC-12?"

"If Hastings will have me back, yeah. Why wouldn't I?"

"Maybe because we let you suffer in a cell for a crime you didn't commit?"

Steve just shrugs, somewhat amused at her bitter wit. He sees the corners of her mouth turn upward slightly as his own face breaks out into a relieved grin seeing her brighter.

"Well, I guess busting me back out makes the balance about even," he quips, the pair smiling together, "What about you?"

Liz thinks, "Continue working on O.K., I suppose."

Steve nods, though hopes she does not push herself too hard. The woman needs time to recover, to process it all. Though, knowing her, she will try to push it down. Not thinking of herself.

They finish their food, taking their plates over to put them in the sink.

Turning to look at each other when Liz thanks him again, Steve sends her a sad smile, "Kate called. Wanted to know how you are?"

"How is she?" Liz asks, ignoring the question, "Is she alright?"

Steve sighs at the way she deflects it from her, as usual, "Yeah, asked if you were ready to make a statement?

Liz tenses. He winces at the way her shoulders rise, her hand freezing and coming to rest on the counter-side, as if to steady herself.

"Yeah," Liz lies, "Do I have to go into the office?"

She's unsure she can face it. Not just yet. She had been in a daze the day before, when Kate had taken her with the evidence.

Hastings had been away, in several aftermath meetings. Liz is unsure if she can face his pity so soon.

"I can record it on my phone. We can do it here. Whenever you're ready."

She nods, contemplating it. Liz looks around her small apartment, shaking away the bad memories there. _He_ had been there. The sofa, the kitchen counters, the mugs of tea - even her own space was corrupted.

She takes a breath, "Would you like to go for a walk?"

He nods. They could do with the fresh air.


	35. Chapter Thirty-Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! hope you are all enjoying this so far and am so grateful for your comments and patience with me as I work on these more complex original chapters while also completing my final degree year! I am a little conscious of the way these chapters are coming across, as I understand the emotions and thoughts of the characters at this point are so tumultuous and contradictory. I want the recovery to be as authentic as possible, so it will take time for them to heal and grow from it, but I am excited to take you all on the ride! as always, thank you for reading and any feedback is very much appreciated! I am blown away by every response I get on this and it always makes my day, something needed in such a dreary time across the globe right now! hope you are all safe and well!

They walk to the riverside, coming to a stop by the railing. Liz wraps her coat around her a little tighter, arms coming across to hug herself, as the harsh, cool air whips against her cheeks. Steve leans forward, arms crossed on the rail, looking out to the water, somehow surprisingly tranquil despite the violent wind blowing around it. He finds some assurity in that, that they too can find some calm in all the chaos.

Neither of them had spoken since breakfast, both still lost in their own heads.

Steve glances at the woman beside him. She had put her hair down before they left, thinking it would protect her neck from the cold. But it floats around her now, red strands rippling in the wind. She brushes some of them away from her face, him eagerly following the movement.

"So it was Dot," he hears himself say before he can stop himself.

She swallows, turning her head away from him and winding her arms around herself more.

He almost regrets bringing it up. But they need to talk. This can't hang over their heads any longer. If they have any hope of moving on and working this all out, it needs to start now.

"He's The Caddy," Steve laments, urging her to respond and not sure what tense to speak of the man in.

"Seems that way," Liz whispers, her voice cracking.

She knew it would not take long for him to bring it all up. He had to. Lizzie was grateful last night that the man had just let them rest, saving this conversation for another time. But they have to face it. _She_ has to face it.

And if she has to face it with anyone, she wants it to be Steve.

"Ready to make a formal statement? Just to clarify some things," he almost regrets having to ask, but the sooner they got this done, the sooner they could work to move on from it.

Part of him was also desperate to hear it from her, what happened and how she feels.

She nods.

Steve pulls his phone from his pocket, considering her for another moment before pressing record.

"Statement interview with witness, Wellbeing Officer to Central Police; Miss Elizabeth Thornton overseen by DS Steve Arnott."

Liz shudders, feeling his eyes on her. She has never been on this side of the questioning, at least, not without the request of the person actually under questioning, like Lindsay Denton had done. Sure, she had made a few statements before, as a character witness, but they were usually in writing and not so… personal.

It is only a statement, but guilt is eating Liz up, leading her intrusively self-deprecating thoughts to convince _she_ is under fire. She is unsure what exactly she is feeling so guilty about, not having had the time to quite process it yet.

But she wants to help, she owes them that. Rather get it done and out of the way so they can move on - if there was even a chance of that.

"Miss Thornton," Steve sighs, hating having to sound so formal for the recording when all he wants to do is comfort his friend, "thank you for this. We understand you may have wanted time to process it all first, and appreciate your assistance so soon."

The young woman can only nod again. Steve's soul aches at the sight of her so timid. He thought his heart was going to give out when Kate told him that man had grabbed her, dragging her into the confrontation. But he was glad and grateful she was willing to speak. She looks tired, devastated - but she is safe.

"We just want to clarify some things, get more details that may be of help to us in our investigation into former-DI Matthew Cottan, now deceased," he watches as Liz bites her lower lip at that, looking to the floor, "What was your relationship to Matthew Cottan?"

Liz sucks in a shuddery breath through her nose. She has to stop herself from sounding bitter, reminding herself he was asking out of professionalism and necessity. Not because of the way he had glared at the pair every time they interacted, acting like a jealous arsehole whenever they did. She is experiencing such a flood of different emotions, none of which she can process quite right. It is bringing up so many things she had tried to suppress, not even relevant to what has happened - at least she thinks.

She doesn't know. Her head is a mess. It all is.

She clears her throat, "We first met back in 2009. Dot - _Matthew_ \- was a client. I was assigned to his branch and squad, TO-20, and so he came under my care. He was going through a divorce and rehabilitation for a gambling and drinking addiction. He had been served a warning, being picked up by DI Tony Gates before he was able to be suspended from his previous branch. We had two appointments, then he never arranged to meet again. We would see each other briefly whenever I would visit TO-20, but that was as far as our acquaintanceship went until two years ago, when he was sequestered to this branch, AC-12, to assist with the Denton case and conspired killing of Tommy Hunter."

"And then? How would you describe your relationship from that time?"

Liz flicks her gaze up to Steve, who looks at her sadly, almost regretting having to ask. What hurts her the most is that he also looks somewhat expectant, as if he has wanted clarification on this for some time. She tries not to be bitter about it as she reluctantly answers, pushing down any rising anger.

"We talked more, and would see each other around the office. Went for coffee a few times and would talk about work. He started to invite me to assist in research and analysing of evidence in the Denton case, saying he believed I, as Lindsay's counsellor, could offer valuable insight into the investigation," Liz finds herself looking rather pointedly at Steve then, remembering how he had seemed to doubt her, though snaps her gaze back to the river when she realises herself, "We became friends as time passed. I visited his apartment once, we had dinner. He came to mine on at least four occasions, mostly to discuss the cases, yours, DS Arnott, in particular."

Steve nods, staying quiet as he waits for her to continue.

She pauses, unable to meet his eye. Liz has to swallow the anxiety rising in her throat to get out her next few words.

"We kissed."

Her gaze falls once again to her feet as tears blur her vision. It feels like a guilty confession, especially standing on this side of the questioning with the investigator looking at her, though she is unsure why. She fears the reaction on Steve's face. She can imagine it to be the same look of betrayal he had sent her after his interrogation, or worse - pity.

If Liz did look over, she would see the man without either of those. He almost chokes on the rage rising in his throat, though it is extinguished by the more urgent realisation of how devastated Lizzie must actually be. Steve had always assumed something was going on between them - _feared_ it even. He was never sure why, assuming it was general protectiveness over his friend. Turns out he was right to be concerned.

But he could never have imagined it to be because of the reality. Even _he_ was not arrogant enough to try and claim that.

Liz hears Steve sigh again as he leans closer to her, still holding the phone to record in his hand. His fingers grip tighter around it, but he swallows down the feeling, it being the last thing she needs now - his jealousy, "Did Cottan ever say something, anything, that alluded to him being the criminal organiser and colluder known as The Caddy?"

Liz bites her lip, harder, though careful not to draw blood. It still did not sound right.

"No, just, uh," she frowns, trying to think, "We mostly talked about work."

 _This is all my fault_.

Liz shakes her head as his voice replays in her mind.

 _It shouldn't be like this_ , he had said.

Her eyes squeeze shut.

 _There's so much I want to tell you. But I can't. I just can't_.

It was all falling into place. He had meant… _Oh God._ How did she not know?

Had the man wanted and tried to say something to her? Did he consider it? Was he ever going to tell her?

"Anything at all?" Steve prompts, not wanting to push but needing the information. It could help. And, as she usually did, Liz knew the man best, "Any insight you have will be valuable."

Her heart clenches at that. All those turbulent emotions storming inside her - ones that were not necessary. Like how Steve had never seemed to appreciate her insight before. So what has changed?

Dot had. He made a point of making her feel welcome, a valuable and capable member of the team.

_You can see things, about situations and about people, that others don't._

That's what he had told her. When she questioned him about it. That night. Before they…

She shudders at the memory.

Liz sighs, "He never said anything explicit. Seemed stressed on a few occasions. I calmed him down. He would keep apologising for things. I never knew what. Guess I do now."

_I'm sorry. For all of it._

"You would say he trusted you?" Steve asks, intrigued.

"I thought so," Liz laments, "I trusted him."

 _You can talk to me. You can trust me_ , she had said.

 _I know_ , he had replied.

Liz squeezes her eyes closed, willing herself to drown him out - his voice, his face.

"You said he seemed stressed? On which occasions?"

"The first time I noticed it, he knocked on my door," she recalls, "It was 17th July, around 2pm, I think. He seemed quite frantic. I comforted him. He never said what it was."

"July 17th is the date Lindsay Denton was killed around midday," Steve states, thinking it through, "He must have come to see you after hiding the evidence he used to frame me for her murder."

Liz feels bile rise in her throat.

Of course. It fit.

Dot killed Lindsay.

_Dot._

It sounds cruel.

The nickname seems too... familiar. She doesn't really know him at all. She never did.

"The other notable time was after your suspect interview," she explains, wanting to move on, struggling to breathe, "He drove me back to mine. He was visibly shaken about something. Apologised to me several times, for everything that was happening. I had assumed he meant… about convicting you."

She looks to Steve guiltily, not quite meeting his eyes, before continuing, "About having to side against you. I brushed it off, telling him he was just doing his job. That he didn't have a choice but to look into it, and we just had to wait to see how it panned out. I said, if it weren't for him, who knew what more The Caddy could be getting away with."

Steve swallows hearing that. He wants to ask more, about what she truly thought about his arrest and the evidence stacked against him. But now, especially on this formal recording, is not the time.

"He obviously meant the apology for more than that, if he even meant it at all," Liz shrugs, trying to seem indifferent, though it tears her apart.

"You think he seemed genuinely apologetic?"

Liz sighs, holding back a growl. She doesn't know. She doesn't want to.

"Yes," she finds herself saying, not even thinking, "I do."

Did she mean it? She has to. It aches too much otherwise.

Steve bites his tongue, not sure how to respond.

"And, uh," he clears his throat, trying not to sound too eager, "Could you recount the events of that day, July 24th?"

Liz shakes her head, closing her eyes again. She tries to speak as quickly and briefly as possible, not wanting to linger on the recent memory, "He came running out the building. He grabbed me, pulled me along. An armed officer and Kate - DC Fleming - seemed to also be in pursuit. I thought we were chasing a suspect. When I asked, he ignored me, just continued to drag me with him."

Her other hand comes to enclose around her wrist, where his hand had been. There is a bruise there now. It is sore. Stinging more when she thinks of it.

"Matthew, uh, pulled me into an alley," she continues, wincing at the recollection, "It was only then, when DC Fleming aimed the gun and the armed officer was shot down in defence after he pulled his weapon on her, I realised what the situation was. That she was chasing _him_. I tried pulling away, but he was stronger than me.

We reached the underpass, he seemed to panic that his arranged pickup was not yet there. I tried to get away again and he tried to hold me again. That's when Kate reappeared, and he got the upper-hand, holding me to him with his gun raised to my head."

Steve feels his hand tighten aggressively around his phone, teeth almost baring at the image.

Liz lets out a breath, "DC Fleming started to say things to him, about Fairbank and the abuse charges. How he could help with all that information he must have. It seemed to be working, it was getting to him. So I tried too. Said we could help him, work something out if he just came back with us and confessed. He appeared to know things would be bad for him, either way. Had to have been aware of what they would do to him, whoever _they_ are. So he still resisted. But I know he was listening. I mean, he dropped his gun."

"But then the vehicle entered the scene?" Steve asks.

Liz nods, timidly, "Yeah. It knocked Kate over. Cottan immediately jumped back into action, pushing me into the back of it. I tried to climb over the seat out the other side but was pulled back in before it drove away."

"Who else was in the vehicle besides yourself and DI Cottan?"

"The two of us and two other men. Kate shot them both by the time it was all over. There wasn't anyone else."

"And did they say anything? Do anything of interest?"

"One of them asked what they were going to do with me," Liz chews her bottom lip between her words, "Suggested ' _putting me with the others'_ or _'shipping me off'_. I don't know what that meant."

Steve nods, thoughtfully, but watches as Lizzie's eyes begin to cloud over again.

"Cottan, he, uh..." she sniffs, "He said he wasn't going to let anything happen to me. Ordered them not to touch me."

Steve's heart is pounding as she blinks back another tear.

"They didn't say anything else before the driver was shot and the car crashed. I used that as my chance to escape, running to DC Fleming. DI Cottan got out, pointed his gun at us. I tried talking to him again, said he could trust me. That I would be there for him."

"Did you mean it?" Steve asks before he can stop himself, his bitterness at her ordeal and what that man has put her through overtaking him and coming out in the worst way. She was not to blame for this. None of them were. She was not the only one to have fallen for it. They all had. He had no right o be questioning her like that.

"I don't know," she responds before he can apologise. Steve's shoulders relax, relieved she does not seem to be affronted by his question, more pondering it. It is as if she has been asking herself that question since, not yet coming to an answer.

Steve clears his throat, looking to his phone before back up at the woman who still looks out to the water in front of them, "And then?"

"He lowered his gun. He took my hand," she pauses, swallowing. Her face seems to steel itself before she continues, "Then I was pushed to the ground. There were three gunshots, followed by another from DC Fleming who killed the shooter. I turn around to see DI Cottan..."

She chokes.

Steve jumps, taking an alerted step forward towards her, an arm instinctively coming to rest on her shoulder.

She coughs, a shaky hand coming to press against her now pursed lips, as if willing herself not to be sick.

She can see it all again.

Feel it all again.

_The blood._

She rips her hand away form her mouth, looking at it disgusted before shoving it back into her coat pocket out of sight.

She is shaking, though her convulsions begin to ease with every stroke of Steve's hand on her upper back. She instinctively leans into the warm touch.

Steve waits for her to say something, anything more. But she continues to glare at the river, eyes glossed by the memories.

He has what he needs. He knew the rest from Kate.

"Thank you, Miss Thornton," Steve says, quietly, ending the recording on his phone and returning it to his pocket.

The woman beside him is still quiet. Looking out over the railing to the water. The sun reflecting from it into her glistening eyes. Her hair still whips around her face, slapping her cheeks red.

"Lizzie," Steve says, though is unsure what to say next. He is trying to wrap his head around it himself, hardly able to imagine what it is like for her.

"I really am sorry," he decides on, hearing her scoff, though does not take it bitterly, knowing she has a lot on her mind, "I knew both of you were close."

"I thought we were," she quietly admits, now not so sure, "He was just using me."

"How do you mean?" Steve urges, glad she seems to be opening up.

"He knew _we_ were friends, good friends," Liz frowns, thinking it through as she speaks. She feels more free now, off the record and feeling as though the barriers have been broken down, "Wanted to turn me against you. Suppose he knew if he could convince me you were guilty, he could convince anyone."

Steve's heart aches. Cotton would be right about that.

Liz breathes in, shakily, still contemplating it.

Even from the beginning with the Denton case, when he was sequestered to AC-12, he had known how bothered she was by Steve pushing her out and not appreciating her insight. Then he made a point of her being involved, at his side to help him. He told her the other night it was because he thought she could offer a point of view no one else saw. Had that been a lie?

When he followed on from that saying he grew to need her there, to help him, was that a lie too?

He made her feel good. He made her feel appreciated. She had fallen for it like a fool. Desperate for validation. Desperate for someone to care.

The man knew she was insecure. He knew her anxieties. And he used that against her for his own advantage.

Wasn't her whole career based on knowing people? Reading them?

And yet he was right there, the whole time. Doing what he did.

How could she have been so _stupid?_

"I should have known," she mutters, tears beginning to brim again, "It is my job to know."

"None of this is your fault," Steve sighs, turning his body to face her.

"Isn't it?" she almost shouts, her red eyes snapping to his.

Steve stays quiet, allowing her to explain herself, knowing she needs to let it out.

"I said I was going to help you, Steve," Liz cries, his heart shattering, "But I let him in. And he used that against me. Against _you_."

Steve thinks back to how difficult it had been for her to open up to him back at the beginning. He knows how much that must have meant to her, to have someone who would listen, as she did for everyone else. And how much it must hurt to believe that was all a deception.

"I really thought he cared about me," she chuckles, darkly.

"You don't know he didn't," Steve offers, kindly.

Liz fights back rolling her eyes.

But he has a point.

Would he have jumped in front of that bullet for her if he didn't? Would he have promised to keep her safe? Listened the way he did? Opened up to her? _Kissed_ her?

She shudders again, Steve moving his hand on her back tighter around her shoulder, pulling her into him more. Liz doesn't resist.

"He was manipulating me," she states, though still unsure, trying to stop herself from thinking about it and move on. It hurt too much, "He was manipulating all of us."

He _was_. Just as he used Steve, Kate, Ted, Maneet, Danny Waldron, Hari Baines, Rod Kennedy, Mark Dryden, Lindsay Denton - all of them.

Steve just shakes his head.

"So what now?" Liz asks, wanting to turn the conversation away from her and that man. She could feel something bubbling, rising to the surface. And she is scared what will happen when it overpowers her.

Steve nods now, dropping his arm from around her, a little disappointed Liz was deflecting from herself, "On the phone this morning, Kate filled me in a bit more. Gave an update on Fairbank."

Patrick Fairbank, Liz remembers, is the ex-Chief Superintendent. The one Steve had asked Hastings to interview when she was in his office that time, about his links to known, identified abusers at Sands View Boys' Home.

"He wasn't just covering up the abuser," Steve sighs, "Joe Nash made a positive ID. He was taking part."

Liz groans in disgust, shaking her head.

"Claims he has dementia, unfit for trial," Steve growls through grit teeth, "He's getting away with it. They all are."

"What is the next move?" she asks, curious, unnerved by but understanding Steve's frustration.

"Not sure," he shrugs, "This is bigger than we know. Joe said the boys reported this all to the police and authorities, but they went out of their way to cover it up. Who knows what else happened, _is_ happening, or who else is involved. Kate says her and Hastings are working on it."

Liz nods, thinking it all over.

"I think Danny was leading us to them, creating a trail," Steve announces, "Ronan Murphy, Linus, Dale Roach, Fairbank too. And they no doubt have links to Tommy Hunter, what with his associations with grooming children like Carly Kirk. Cotton's dying declaration gave us crucial evidence against Fairbank, as well as some other names. So that's a start. We have to find whoever had Dot working for them."

Liz stays quiet, her mind running with thoughts.

She settles on one, the idea making her gut twist, "It is sad when you think about it."

Steve turns to her, a brow raised.

Liz continues, "Danny, I mean. He never had a chance. They ruined him. Groomed him from a young age, twisted his mind. No wonder he was capable of what he was. And it makes the reasons he struggled with relationships clear. How do you overcome that kind of trauma? How can you trust anyone? No one was there for him."

Steve hums, agreeing. He looks at her again, seeing the way she grips her lip between her teeth, her hands clenching by her sides as she thinks over something.

"Do you-" she hesitates, eyes closing for a moment as she steadies herself for whatever she wants to say, "Do you think _he_ was involved?"

He frowns, knowing she is referring to Cottan by the way her voice shakes, "We know he was."

"No, I mean..." Liz swallows again, shifting her feet, "Do you think he was a victim?"

Steve pauses, considering it.

"He was scared," Liz recollects, sadly, feeling guilty for not working it out before. It was too late now, "Scared of what they, whoever ' _they'_ are, would do to him. If he didn't comply."

"You seem sure it wasn't his choice?" Steve questions.

"Not everyone has a choice," she says, insistent, "What if he was groomed? From a boy, turned into a pawn. Got wrapped up in it all somehow, never found a way out."

"He still had a choice."

"He wanted to get out," Liz insists, her heart beating fast as she defends the man, somehow, "He thought it could be over. It never would be."

"Danny said he was under no illusions of a happy ending," Steve explains, finding himself somewhat agreeing, "Knew he would suffer for his actions."

"I think _he_ did too," Liz contemplates, sadly, "But he saw an opportunity. He was desperate. So he took it."

"You mean me? _I_ was his opportunity," Steve bites back a stubborn huff.

Liz just sends him an apologetic but pointed look. The man _had_ played into his hands.

Cottan had been kind to her, making her feel appreciated, a long while before Steve started to… well, act like an idiot, making so many mistakes that helped the framing. It was not until Steve gave him the chance that he took it and things started to develop - too quickly.

Surely that counted for something? That he had meant it. That it was genuine.

Steve sighs, seeing her point but not understanding how she could be making excuses for that man. She clearly cared for him. Still does.

And he gets it now. After everything that happened between them. The way Dot had confided in her somewhat, and she him. He really had listened, and wanted her to listen to him. He knows, more than anyone, how significant that is. How that makes a person feel.

But Dot had played them, right from the beginning. Watched as they ran around like fools, looking for evidence, victims, witnesses, criminals - and all that time, he _knew_. He was in on it.

Liz knows this. It is tearing her apart. But, she also knows some of it was true. It had to be.

It all makes sense, when she thinks about it; him being The Caddy. The multiple phones, the discrepancies in the investigations, the framing of Steve. She should have seen it. Should have known he was lying.

But what didn't make sense, and the thing she will cling to now she realises it, is why he would have allowed her to get so close? Where would that have fit into his plan?

To manipulate her? Sure, to begin with. An attempt to turn her against Steve when he became a suitable candidate to frame. But over time he became much more vulnerable, admitting things to her she doubts he meant to. Why would he tell her he was scared, risk spilling more, if he was trying to deceive her? If he didn't care?

Or _was_ it all a game? Had Dot really deceived her all that time without her knowing?

"It was all a lie," she cries, voice squeaking, unable to stop herself. It still didn't sound right. It didn't make sense. But it is as if that explanation will make it easier to process, to move on - more so than the complicated, conflicted truth.

Steve scoffs. Liz turns to him, sharply, watching as he looks away from her, shaking his head.

He turns back, hands flying into his pockets, "Is it really so hard to believe?"

Liz raises a questioning brow, wiping away a tear with her hand.

Steve continues, prompted by her silence, "That someone could care about you? _Love_ you?"

Lizzie chokes, taken back, "He didn't _love_ me-"

"You listen, you care, and you don't ask for anything out of it!" Steve insists, rather aggressively, not quite looking at her with his brow furrowed.

He's tired of her lack of self-worth. It angers him. Especially now, after all she has done for him. He needs her to know.

Liz stares at him, bewildered. _What?_

"If he was, as you said, manipulated and groomed and had no other choice, can you not see how much that would have meant to him?" he continues to assert, "When he has no one else to turn to, but _you're_ there. Listening. Caring. Not expecting anything back."

Steve blanches as he finishes, taking a small step back and catching his breath. He is unsure where that came from, also unsure if he was even still talking about Cottan rather than himself.

Lizzie just looks at him, eyes wide. She is breathing heavily, fists clenched at her sides, "Then why would he put me in danger like he did?"

"He wasn't thinking," Steve suggests, softening his tone, "He just wanted you there, on his side. And you are, you're always there. Even when no one else is."

"It is my job," she dismisses, to his dismay.

"We both know, in this line of work, that means nothing."

Liz struggles to argue with that.

"You do it because that's who you are. A good person. You have a good heart," he presses, encouraged by her silence, "I know, if everything was beating me down like that, I would want you there. In fact, I have been in that position and... I _do_."

Liz swallows, unsure what to say. She struggles to focus on anything but the way he is looking at her, that sincere glint in his eyes. Her stomach twists, uneasily, but it does not hurt so much this time.

"I shouldn't have turned against you like that," she mumbles, regrettably, "I shouldn't have fallen for it."

"You didn't," he huffs, "I wouldn't be here if not for you. Kate told me what you did. And it means more to me than I can explain."

He can't find the words. He tries, almost desperate.

'Thank you' won't cut it. Nothing will.

Only a silent promise to be better. And he will be. He has to be. If not for himself, then for Liz.

He just needs to process it all first. Get back in the game. Things will be good again, just how they were. Better than that, things will be _different_.

"I want to help," Liz asserts, her chin lifting to almost challenge him to argue as she expects he will, "I need to."

Steve nods, not expecting anything otherwise, though hopes she does not push herself too hard. The woman needs time to recover, to process it all. Though, knowing her as well as he does, she will try to push it down. Not thinking of herself.

He will help her through it. He will be there when she needs him.

"Lizzie," the woman turns to him as he says her name, "I really am sorry."

She cringes, visibly wincing as she shakes her head with her eyes shut, "Please, Steve. Don't. Let's just move on from this. Get to the bottom of it. You promised Joe Nash. We owe it to him, and Danny, and all the other victims of whatever this is."

 _And Matthew Cottan_ , she thinks, though stops herself from voicing it. Maybe her heart wasn't entirely convinced he was nothing but bad. Maybe it was listening to Steve.

She had grown to care for that man, and she wants to believe he cared for her.

She has to. Or it will drive her mad.

He tried to ruin their lives, Steve in particular. But he also _saved hers_.

She can't hate him. Not after that, even if she wants to. Things would be easier that way.

"How's your head?" Steve asks, his eyes creasing as he looks to the stitches there.

"Should probably stop getting my head cut open in car crashes, huh?" she tries to joke, but it comes out bitter. Steve watches her, unamused, once again feeling a pang of guilt.

"Let's get back," Steve suggests before that guilt can eat at him, holding out an arm to indicate her to move beside him.

It hovers by her lower back. Liz quickly moves into it, stepping closer to him to rest her head against the front of his shoulder. Steve responds immediately, wrapping his arms fully around her, resting on her back. Her hands slip around his waist, tucked under his arms.

"I missed you. I'm sorry," she mumbles into his coat.

"I missed you, too," Steve sighs, knowing it is more than that as well as ignoring her apology.

"Will you forgive me?"

His chest aches at her broken whimper, "There is nothing to forgive."

Liz sinks further into his hold, gripping the back of his jacket tighter. He can feel tears seeping through his thin jacket, the only one Kate was able to grab from his flat. He moves his head down to rest his cheek against the top of her hair.

"I am glad to have you back," she whispers.

He smiles.


	36. Chapter Thirty-Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! thank you for your patience and for reading this fic! I am always overwhelmed by your responses and the positivity all of you share! here is another chapter for you, my longest one yet somehow! As always, enjoy and let me know what you think!

"Are you sure about this?"

"I am," she says, though unsure.

He nods from the seat beside her.

The pair are sitting in one of the meeting rooms. Steve takes hold of the remote, pointing it at the screen in front of them.

He presses play.

Liz takes a deep breath.

She closes her eyes as it begins to play.

"In last night's interview of DS Arnott, you produced a piece of evidence, item reference MRC2," Liz can hear Kate's voice say through the speakers, "Namely the golf tee in the envelope found at Danny Waldron's flat."

Hastings speaks next, "Wonder if you could explain in a little bit more detail how you came by this piece of evidence?"

She holds her breath as she waits for _him_ to speak.

Her eyes snap open as he does.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're driving at, sir."

Tears flood as soon as she sees his face.

Right there, emotive, arrogant - alive.

The interview plays, Liz struggling to concentrate on what is being said as she drowns in a self-inflicted tempest of thoughts and emotions and regrets and blame.

Steve hears her whimper, grinding the palms of her hands into her eyes as the recording continues. He sighs, wanting to stop the video and comfort her but knowing she would refuse, possibly even shout, insisting she needs to know.

Maybe she just needs space. Steve had stayed at her apartment again the night before, too ashamed to face Sam and too scared to leave Lizzie. They had come to the office early that morning, Liz going to her own office to collect some files she needed to catch up on and Steve having an unnecessary reconciliation briefing with Hastings before receiving a briefing on where they were to go now. He had work to do.

He stands from his chair, concerned eyes never leaving her timid form as she winces at the screen.

"I'll be just outside if you need me," he offers, waiting for her to nod before reluctantly leaving the room, still keeping an eye on her until the door is closed.

He lets out a breath as he stands outside the room for a moment, before heading into the office to his desk.

Steve had already seen the tape, coming into the office for a few hours yesterday while Liz slept. He needed answers.

As he walks through the crowd of coworkers, a strange twisting in his stomach at the cruel quietness of them all, he is caught by the older Superintendent who looks uneasily over to the meeting room with Lizzie inside.

"Is she in there?" Ted asks as his eyes flick back to the other man who nods.

He had not been able to see his goddaughter yet, her ignoring all his calls for the past few days. After speaking with Kate, it seemed he was not the only one to receive such a cold-shoulder.

Ted had thought to drop by her flat, see how she was doing. But the last two days had been hectic to say the least. Meeting after meeting, report after report, file after file. It was a nightmare. He could not blame her for wanting a break and time to herself, away from it all.

He thought his old heart had finally given up on him when Kate had called in that _that man_ had grabbed her, putting her in all sorts of danger. Worse than the time she had been caught up in that crash with Denton and the ambushers. This time, after seeing the officer shot down in front of his very eyes and having a gun aimed at his own self, he could only imagine what could have happened to her. _His_ Beth. _His_ little girl.

The events of that day had been traumatic enough for him and anyone else in that office, let alone her, what with the apparent close relationship they had shared and the ordeal she suffered through in the chase and shooting. He had not listened to her recorded witness interview yet, admittedly a little apprehensive to do so. But it was entirely understandable she had not come to him yet. The young woman needed time to process and recover before showing her face here again. She would come to him when she was ready.

It seemed the woman only wanted the company of one person after everything that had happened. And he respects that.

Turning to the man in question, he asks, "So how is she doing?"

Steve sighs, the sound twisting Hastings' heart as he fears the wellbeing of his goddaughter, "Just trying to understand it all. As we all are."

Hastings nods, unsure what else to say until he has some time with her himself.

"Listen, son," Ted begins with his hands on his hips, Steve's mouth twists as he irritatedly anticipates what is coming, "We really are sorry-"

"Please, sir," he laments, "I just want to move on from it. Besides, Lizzie has apologised enough on behalf of all of you."

The older man lets out an incredulous yet believing huff, "Poor girl."

Steve refuses to let a frown cut across his face. The last thing Lizzie needs is pity. But he knows the older man is only concerned for her, him caring deeply for the young woman but unsure what to say or do to make things better. Just as with himself.

And the last thing Steve needs now is to hold bitterness against any of them, especially over something so petty in the grand scheme of things. He said he wants to move on. And so he will.

"When she's done, let her know I am off for a meeting until around 13:00. Still have much to clear up. I fear we will for a long time yet," Hastings explains, his arms now folding across his chest as he once again glances concernedly to the room in which his goddaughter is inside, "I'll take her for lunch. You are welcome to join too, of course."

Steve blanches at the invitation, his eyes finally tearing themselves away from where he had rather distractedly been glaring at the meeting room, as if trying to sense whether Lizzie needed him to go back in.

"I am sure she will be grateful for that, sir," he nods, "but I need to get on with some of the new leads. Get back on track with it all."

His heart clenches at the idea of letting Liz go without him, but beats it down by assuring himself she will be fine. It is her godfather after all.

But he is worrying for her. Not having left her side since.

And, admittedly, he needs her there. To keep him upright. He is struggling too. Trying desperately to recuperate. To ' _get back on track with it all_ '. It all feels like a dream. A cruel, taunting nightmare. One he cannot quite accept as reality just yet. But Lizzie is the only thing that has kept him grounded so far. He does not know how he will cope without her. It is selfish. It is irrational. It scares him.

But she will appreciate the time alone with her guardian. Steve knows they have not yet had the chance to catch up and there is much they need to discuss. Hastings is not the most emotionally-available of men, something he knows both from experience and from Lizzie's tales of her childhood. But he is clearly making the attempt to reach out here, wanting to be there for her.

Hastings nods disappointedly but understanding. The young man had always had a tendency to need to prove himself and he has no doubt Steve, after all their doubt, is feeling the compulsion now more than ever.

"Thank you, Steve," he says, as sincerely as he can muster through his concern.

Steve just nods, assuming the man means for more than just passing on a message - for being there for her.

He doesn't want thanks.

He just wants her to be alright.

Steve lets out another short sigh as the Superintendent walks out of the office with his coat and cap. He turns to finally reach his desk, pulling out the chair before hesitating.

He looks over his shoulder at the interview room. The glass panels missing from where they were shattered by bullets. The bleached patch of carpet after a shoddy attempt to clean where the helpless officer bled to his death. He then glazes his eyes across the room, scanning each weary face of his coworkers. Remorseful, he notes. Things will not be the same here for a long time. If ever again.

Something catches his eye. An empty desk. _Dot's_.

Steve sits down, almost falling into the seat, a hand coming to rub at his aching forehead.

_How?_

_HOW?!_

He almost wants to hit something if he had not already caused so much chaos around here.

He is distracted by someone approaching his desk.

"Kate," he greets, relieved to see his friend again. She sends him a small smile, her eyes then travelling warily to the meeting room in a silent question, just as Hastings' had.

"She's in there, yeah," Steve says quietly before she even has to ask, Kate nodding sadly in response.

The woman looks around for a spare chair, hesitating bitterly before pulling up the one from the empty desk.

"You alright?" Steve asks. Kate bites back a disbelieving laugh as if she should be the one asking him.

"Yeah, you?"

"Yeah."

The pair leave it at that.

"Lizzie said to thank you for signing off the tape, allowing her to watch it," Steve says.

"Least I could do. She deserves answers," Kate shrugs.

There is a moment's pause, the air suddenly thickening around them as Kate prepares to speak. Steve tenses.

"I listened to her statement," Kate explains, fiddling with her hands in her lap.

Steve closes his eyes briefly, breathing in through his nose before turning to her.

Kate is chewing at her lip. Steve knows it must be difficult for her, just as much of the rest of them. She too had grown to see _him_ as a friend and had trusted him. For it to be someone _so close…_ And Steve can only imagine, now knowing what actually happened that day with the chase and shooting, the way it is plaguing her mind too.

The woman clears her throat, "Liz and Dot."

Steve tenses.

"I didn't know they…" Kate trails off, her voice low.

 _Kissed,_ Steve finishes for her in his head, the ache there growing immensely.

"Me neither," he shrugs.

It is Kate's turn to sigh now, "Poor girl."

Steve feels his blood momentarily boil again. _Not Kate too._

But he reminds himself of what he had earlier with Hastings: it is only because they care.

What else can they do? If any of them knew how to best deal with this, that is what they would do.

Kate does not know. She feels just as helpless as the rest of them.

All that time she spent out on the job. Undercover. Investigating others.

She should have just looked to someone who was beside her the whole time.

It is devastating.

The things she has lost. The time she has lost - mostly with Josh.

For what?

And now, with those closest to her struggling and not knowing what to do or how to help because she doesn't even know how to help herself - the headache just won't go away.

It isn't fair. None of it.

But they need to get to the bottom of it all.

And the only way they can do that is by working together, supporting each-other.

Some of them are angry, like Hastings. Some of them are confused, like Steve. Some of them are grieving, like herself.

But _Liz?_

Liz is likely going through it all. That's what she does. That's how she works. Over-thinking, over-feeling. Anger, confusion, grief - but also doubt and guilt. Doubt in herself and guilt she did not do things differently. Like she could have changed things, somehow, despite having no idea what was happening, just like the rest of them.

But she had the least to regret out of all of them. All she did, all she has ever done, was try to help. Steve, Kate, Hastings, Denton, Waldron, _Dot_ too. If it were not for her keeping an open mind and trusting her own judgements, they would have never even considered looking into the possibility Steve was not to blame despite the stacks of evidence towering over him. If it were not for her, things would be fucked. More fucked than they are.

Where do they even begin to help her believe that? She never would. As much as they may want to try.

Kate will try, for Liz's sake. After all that woman has done for her, the least she can do is be there.

She owes her that. They all do.

Kate's head snaps suddenly to Steve, the man raising a brow at her.

"She never gave up on you, you know," she stresses, despite having done so many times before.

Steve nods, his gaze flitting unworthily to the desk in front of him, "I know."

"Promise me," Kate says, Steve looking at her again, confused, "Promise you won't give up on her."

Steve's face contorts into something Kate can only recognise as offence. As if the notion is something so ridiculous to him that he physically recoils from the suggestion.

"Never. I promise."

Kate lets out a quiet breath, not quite relieved but assured, knowing that would be his answer but grateful to hear him say it with such conviction.

"I want to be better. I have to be," Steve continues, sincerely, "I won't let her down again. Any of you."

He means it. He really does. He has not been this sure of something in a very long time.

There was little else to do in that cell but think about it all. Where he went wrong. What he would do differently if he had the chance. And _t_ _his is_ his chance.

"Good," Kate shrugs, a small smile creeping onto her face, "Because if you do…"

"I can imagine, yeah," Steve chuckles.

Kate leans back in her seat, comforted by the way Steve's face sets determinedly as it turns back to glance at the meeting room within which their friend sits.

If anyone can help Liz, it is Steve. And if anyone can help _him_ , it is _her_. Kate smiles, glad they have each other.

* * *

"Steve told me you came to the office to collect some files," Hastings begins as he sits across from the young woman at the restaurant table, "Does that mean you're working again?"

He had meant it innocently, merely attempting to make conversation. But the way she rolls her eyes and leans further back in her seat, as if defensively retreating further into herself, tells him he has said something wrong.

She groans quietly, assuming the older man is about to berate her for not wanting any more time off. To have the distraction of work to keep her from her thoughts and to stop her replaying everything over and over and over and over again until it drives her insane.

Hastings sighs at her lack of response. She had not said a word since they met at the restaurant other than the quiet mumble of her food order - that she has barely touched.

Ted takes another bite of his fish, clearing his throat before trying again, "How is Saoirse doing? I should visit soon, pay that little thing a visit. Bring some treats. 'Dreamies' are her favourite, right?"

Liz feels as though she might vomit, unable to even look at her plate of food now as she is reminded of other troubles she had yet to process, pushed down by more recent events. She swallows, looking to her lap.

Hastings puts down his cutlery, placing his elbow on the table and linking his fingers together. It seemed there was nothing else to talk about. So he would get right to it.

"I listened to your statement," he announces, Liz feeling her heart leap to her throat.

Realising she will not respond yet, Ted continues, hesitantly, "I didn't realise… I didn't realise the two of you were so… close."

Liz's eyes squeeze shut briefly, her hands coming to grip on the sides of her chair as her face heats.

Hastings lowers his hands, reaching one hand out to her. She takes it, willing her hand to stop shaking.

"I am sorry, Beth," her godfather pleads, giving her hand a squeeze, "I am so, _so_ sorry. If there is anything I can do."

 _You can stop talking_ , Liz says so aloud in her own head she is unsure whether she has actually said it out loud.

She regrets the thought immediately, knowing he is only trying to help. To care.

But this is what she feared.

 _Pity_.

She slowly lets go of his hand, faking a small smile for his benefit.

Ted sends her a warm smile back, though his eyes remain sad and - she shudders - pitiful.

"So," he takes another bite of his food, "How is Steve doing?"

Liz snaps her eyes to meet his, heart jumping at the mention of her friend.

She clears her throat, quietly, squeaking out, "As good as can be expected."

Hastings falters as he swallows another mouthful, not expecting her to respond after being silent all afternoon. He isn't surprised that line of conversation worked. All the man had seemed to want to talk about that morning had been her.

He nods, "We talked. Things seem to be on the mend."

"He understands. I think he just wants to get back to work," Liz explains, leaning forward to finally pick up her fork and eat a few salad leaves.

Ted has a small smile at that.

Liz can feel herself beginning to come alive again, with the food settling in her stomach. She had not exactly been hungry the last few days, only eating when Steve would encourage her.

She thinks over what she said. Steve really did understand. More than she thought he would. It seemed he understood why they did what they did, why they thought what they thought. That he forgave them. And so quickly too.

Steve was right, she supposes, when he said that their successful attempt to get him freed balanced it out. But forgiveness only comes with understanding. Something he clearly had taken the time to do.

And the way he had been with her since. The relief she finds in his kindness is almost unbearable. Like she does not deserve it.

He only asked questions when she was ready. Would not push when he could tell she was not ready. He both understood that while they should work on moving on and getting back to 'normal', they also needed time to process and recover. While Liz found herself torn between the two, he seemed to reassure her that there was a necessary balance. That they could not expect this to heal without time and effort.

Over the past two days, it had seemed _he_ were counselling _her_. That he, despite her owing him to apologise and make up for all that had happened, was going out of his way to look after her and rekindle their friendship.

He has never pitied her.

And she is beyond grateful for that.

"He is a good man," Hastings declares, somewhat proudly.

Liz feels her face heat, for some reason, her fork pausing before taking another bite.

"He is."

"I am pleased you have someone like him to look out for you," Hastings continues to praise, "A very good man indeed."

Liz can feel her cheeks burn as her throat suddenly dries, unable to swallow another bite.

She recognises that tone. She is familiar with that small smile currently etched on the man's face.

She knows it from all those times she sat through his appraisal speeches of the men he has (unsuccessfully) tried to set her up with. Confident in his judge of character.

The suggestiveness of his comment makes her stomach sink, the food churning.

"I really do need to thank you, Beth, for all those times you assured me I made the right choice hiring him all those years ago," Hastings grins, Liz cringing at the forcibly casual way her godfather continues to eat his own meal.

Ted Hastings was not a subtle man.

"How is Roisin?" she hears herself ask, once again finding the courage to pick up her fork despite the uneasy way her gut is twisting at whatever insinuation Ted was trying to make. Her head is too hazy to even bother considering it.

Liz knows it is cruel to have brought the woman up when Ted was only trying to make conversation, but what concerns her most in this moment is the way she can hear her heart drumming in her ears as it pounds fiercely against her chest.

She lets out a breath in an attempt to catch it again while she waits for the man to respond.

Hastings avoids her eye, "She sends her love."

Liz raises a curious, disbelieving brow at his lack of enthusiastic response. She knows he is deflecting, that she should push him for more of an explanation as to whatever is going. Between all the lies and deception and misunderstandings she is currently trying to work herself around, the last thing she needs is the added stress of her own godfather being disingenuous and hiding something from her.

But before she can, admittedly also being too tired to, a waiter arrives at the table, placing something in front of her.

Thanking the waiter, she turns down to the small plate, her bitterness sweetening at the small dessert that she has been served.

Her gaze snaps back up to Hastings who is grinning happily at her, sending her a pleased wink.

She feels herself smile - a proper toothy smile - for the first time in days. Her dry lips crack and her sore cheeks ache. But it warms her heart nonetheless, revelling in the feeling.

There was little that could not be cured by a bit of _toff-boff!_

* * *

"Oh, Steve, hey."

"Hey," he smiles sheepishly, his hands in his jacket pockets as he stands on her doorstep, "Sorry to just show up like this, I didn't know where else to go."

Lizzie sends him a smile, genuinely happy to see him, opening the door wider for him to come in, "What's going on?"

He steps into her familiar flat, Liz closing the door behind him before raising a curious brow, though the smile remains plastered to her face. Steve relaxes at the sight, glad to see some colour back in her cheeks.

"Sam is moving her stuff out of the flat," he explains, looking at his shoes as he shifts his weight, dejectedly.

Liz takes a step closer to him, now concerned, "You broke up?"

Steve winces at her tone, slightly louder than he had anticipated as he nods.

Liz scoffs, gesturing for him to join her on the sofa. Steve removes his jacket, collapsing into the seat as Lizzie sits beside him, one arm resting on the back of it as she tucks a leg under her other, eagerly awaiting more information.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she asks, voice softer at the dampened look on his face.

He shrugs, "There was so much else going on. Didn't need to unload that on you too."

Liz sighs, reaching a hand out to place it on his arm. He immediately relaxes into the comforting touch, melting back into the sofa with an exhale.

"I am so sorry, Steve," Liz says, kindly, knowing how good the relationship had been for him, "When did this happen?"

It had almost been a week since the _incident_ and he had been freed from that cell.

"The day before you showed up," he admits, suddenly feeling guilty for not telling her sooner, already cringing as he waits for her to react.

Liz removes her hand from his arm as it settles, "As in… She broke up with you while you were in there?"

He only nods.

He hears her scoff, shifting on the sofa uncomfortably. He can almost feel the heat begin to radiate off her as the anger rises.

"Bitch," she bites, Steve's eyes widening in surprise.

"Lizzie-"

"No, she can't just do that! She can't just do that to you while you're suffering like that! How dare she-"

"Lizzie, please. It's fine."

"How is that fine? That's just cruel! She is - _was -_ your _girlfriend_. You weren't even on trial yet. She's supposed to stand by you, after all that time together-"

"Lizzie!"

She turns to him then, biting her tongue. He can see the animosity dissolve in her eyes as she takes in his composure. He was sad, of course. A little betrayed too.

But he understands.

The risk his charge posed to her career, her reputation. And the things he was charged for…

And after Dot, he gets it. How well do you really know anyone?

Lizzie seems to be the only one that always knew him.

This was a chance for Steve. To start again. To not think he is secure behind the safety net of having a stable job and a flat and a girlfriend. What does any of that mean if you are not happy in yourself anyway?

That time in that cell had him thinking even before she had ended things. But the day after, before Kate and Lizzie showed up, that's when the true reflections began to occur. The realisations. The regrets. The resolutions.

No, this would be good for him. He needs time to work on himself.

And who knows? Maybe he can find love again. Maybe there is also another chance for him and Sam.

"It's fine, really," Steve tries to reassure his friend, looking at him so sympathetically now.

She just lets out a disagreeing ' _hmph!'_ He feels himself smirk a little at that, despite how much his chest hurts.

"I thought you liked her," he questions, turning his body to face the woman.

Lizzie's mouth drops open slightly as she works out how to best respond, "Well, when she actually bothered to talk to me she was nice enough."

"What do you mean?"

"You never noticed?" she almost laughs at his confused ignorance as he just stares at her. _How could he not have seen the way she glared at me?_

"I wasn't her biggest fan and she definitely wasn't mine, let's just say that," Liz settles on, seeing Steve actually have somewhat of a smirk on his face, making her feel better about being honest now that she could.

Steve just nods, his mouth turning upwards at the news.

"Does Kate know?"

"Not yet, though I am sure she will have a similar reaction," Steve chuckles quietly, causing Liz to smile wider.

She is sure that is true. The woman was not exactly subtle about who she liked and disliked, with the woman rolling her eyes practically every time Steve mentioned Sam.

"I am thinking of selling the flat," Steve then explains, wanting to move on, "Too many bad memories."

"Fair enough," Liz agrees, "Well, if you need anything just let me know. You can stay as long as you need."

She hopes that does not come across as much of a plea as it did in her head. She was still recovering, still processing everything. And she was enjoying his company, having him back in her life. But he also needs his space to recover too. He probably doesn't want to be her babysitter when there is so much he has to deal with himself. _Don't overstep, that's just desperate._

Steve's chest pangs at her offer. He wants to stay, for the pair to look after each other as they have done. He is enjoying her company, having her back in his life. But she is just being polite as always. And she needs her space to recover too. She probably doesn't want to be his babysitter when there is so much she has to deal with herself . _Don't overstep, that's just desperate._

Steve just smiles politely, ignoring the way his chest continues to ache disappointedly at not responding to her offer, "So, how are you?"

Liz does not allow her smile to falter, despite the way her stomach twists in disappointment at his lack of response to her offer, "Better. But being stuck here like this is driving me mad."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Ted has pretty much banned me from the office and work for the week. So it is just me and my thoughts."

"And Saoirse," he corrects.

Her eye twitches.

"And Saoirse," she repeats, voice low, hoping he does not notice the slight shake in her tone.

_Why won't you just tell him the truth?_

_No, there is too much going on at the moment to unload that on him too._

_Isn't that what he just said about Sam and the breakup? Isn't that what just irritated you?_

_Yes, but I was going to find out about Sam sometime. He doesn't have to know about… all that._

"You ok?"

"Yeah," she brushes off with a smile as she snaps out of her daze and continues to speak as to not arouse suspicion. Steve doesn't need another reason to be worried about her, "Anyway, yeah, so I have had nothing to do. It is driving me mad."

"Why don't you just go to the office then?"

"Didn't you hear me? Ted has banned me."

"You're twenty-seven years old, what is he going to do?" Steve guffaws, teasingly.

"I know," Liz also giggles, "But after twenty-seven years of it, it is hard to stand up to, I suppose. He knows how to get to me."

"And how did he get to you?"

"Bribed me with some toffee-banoffee pie," Liz admits, a wider smile splitting her cheeks - a sight Steve indulges in, "I couldn't say no."

Steve lets out another laugh, "Ah, yeah. _Toff-boff._ "

Liz almost gasps, shocked, "You remember that?"

Steve thinks back to that evening all almost three years ago, when he and Liz were at that meal with Georgia and Roisin and he learned the truth about Ted as her godfather, "How could I forget?"

Liz's hands come to cover her face as her cheeks heat a little in embarrassment, but she laughs along with him anyway, glad to have a moment of cheer after such a stressful few weeks. They are both almost dizzy with it.

"I did barter though," she then reveals, the smile slowly falling from her face as her hands drop to her lap. Steve suppresses a disappointed shudder of concern as he watches her deflate, the room seeming to close in around them as he waits for her to explain herself, "No one came to claim the fees for Dot to have a funeral."

Steve holds back a sigh, biting the inside of his cheek as a bitter taste floods his mouth when she speaks of the man, especially using that _damn_ nickname. His hands grip at his trouser on his thighs. He misses the jubilance they shared a moment ago. He knows where this is going.

"I asked Ted to sign the release form from the coroner's office," she admits, voice now shaky as she swallows sobs rising in her throat. Steve winces at her hurried tone and the way she avoids his gaze, as if trying to convince him of what she has done, pleading for his approval, "He will be cremated. And it will just be a simple plaque at the cemetery, nothing fancy or expensive. But he deserves something. To be remembered. He can't just be forgotten."

Steve almost lets out a bitter snigger. How can that man be forgotten when he has plagued his mind for the past week? He has almost failed to think of anyone else, if it weren't for the concern he has for Lizzie and her wellbeing.

He catches her eye, the tears brimming her now red eyes as she struggles to hold them back. His indignation melts away after just that glance.

He can see how important it is to her. _Dot_ , after all, _had_ been important to her.

_This woman. She is just too kind._

And it is kind of sad, when he thinks about it. Maybe Lizzie is right. Dot didn't have anyone.

Steve shifts slightly closer to her, Liz almost instinctively resting her head against his shoulder as she sniffles away tears. He wraps an arm around her shoulder, drawing her in closer.

"Ok," he says quietly, unsure what else to say, her feeling him nod his head above hers.

That is all the approval Liz needs, her chest swelling as the man once again understands her reasoning without even having to ask. Ted had been taken back by the request too, even seemed close to refusing, but she had managed to convince him by promising to take a break.

Thinking of Ted, Lizzie is reminded of what she has wanted to ask Steve when she saw him.

"How did your meeting with Ted go anyway?"

Steve can feel her warm breath seeping through his shirt as she speaks. He moves his head so his chin rests upon the top of hers, his thumb caressing her shoulder gently as they talk.

He knows Hastings likely spoke with her about it at their lunch, but he smiles slightly at the idea she still wants to know what happened from _his_ perspective. She always cared about that. Hearing every side, considering every feeling.

"Good, I think, yeah," he responds, "I wasn't sure how he would react to me coming back, but he was fine. Apologetic, though I told him not to be. Stressed how you were the one to thank, just as everyone has."

Steve tightens his arm around her, squeezing her close to him. Liz smiles as she remains quiet, wanting him to continue and move on from that.

"Said my job is always open to me, and he was happy to have me back. That if there was anything he could do for me to help settle back in, to let him know. Then had a quick briefing and he told me to 'get to work' like nothing had changed."

Liz chuckles slightly, "Yeah, he never was one for sentimentality. I am glad it went well."

"Me too."

"He really does believe in you, you know," she stresses, "Always stood by your side when you made, well, _bad errors of_ _judgement_."

She feels Steve tense slightly around her, embarrassed.

"And he had no choice but to go ahead with the charge against you. I mean, that evidence-"

"I know," Steve stops her, almost hearing her mind as it overworks, "Come on."

Liz almost jumps when he suddenly moves, her falling from his shoulder as he reaches to the table for her laptop, opening it.

"What should we watch?" he asks, diffusing her confusion.

She smiles, knowing he is trying to distract them both, stop them from only talking about _it_.

Lizzie thinks for a moment before hitting her shoulder against his, "How about Midsommer Murders? Put those detective skills of yours to the _real_ test."

Steve smirks at her teasing tone, glad to see a smile back on her face as he looks at her over his shoulder. He searches for an episode, pressing play, before leaning back and opening out his arm to invite her to lean against him. She immediately does, her head once again coming to rest just below his shoulder as her legs tuck under herself.

 _What are you doing?_ he thinks. _Your girlfriend -_ ex _-girlfriend - is literally moving her stuff out of your apartment as you sit here cuddling up to some other woman?_

_But this isn't just any other woman._

_This is Lizzie._

So he allows himself to enjoy it. That tranquillity and peace of mind only Lizzie can offer him when everything else was so...shit.

* * *

A few hours later, and the pair are still sitting watching Midsommer Murders together on Liz's sofa, her head still perched on Steve's shoulder. He had said he would expect Sam to still be at his for a few hours yet, when in truth she had text him while he was at the office saying she would likely be gone after an hour or so, and that was this afternoon.

Liz sits up, reaching to the table to take a sip of the hot chocolate Steve had just made her using the sachets from her cupboard. She almost chokes in surprise when something comes flying through her letterbox.

She swallows, hard.

She tenses, stiff.

She refuses to look, her heart stopping.

The mug would almost be dropping to the floor if not for the way her fist has come to clench so strongly around the handle, her knuckles white.

She panics as Steve begins to rise, standing from the sofa to move towards it.

She shouts before she can stop herself.

"NO!"

The man pauses, turning to look down at her with a confused frown.

"Wait," Lizzie says as her cheeks heat under his gaze.

"What is it?" he asks, concerned, watching as she slowly sets down the mug on the table, her hand shaking as she does.

Liz stays quiet, rushing to move past him to get to the offending item first. She can feels Steve begin to move behind her too, cursing under her breath that this had to happen now.

That's when she sees it. What she feared. Another envelope.

She goes to grab for it, attempting to stuff it in the drawer with the others before Steve can get a good look at it. Unfortunately, he takes a step closer, wrapping his hand around her wrist to stop her from closing it shut. She jumps, wincing.

He removes his hand, looking down to the contents in the drawer, two white envelopes, and the envelope in her hand. His gaze raises to meet her eye, brow creasing fiercely as he sees the way her eyes begin to cloud over.

"What's going on?"

Her heart almost breaks at the concern laced within his soft tone.

She has dreaded this moment. Tried to put it off. Hoped it would never have to happen, that things would pass.

Seems she has no choice now.

She tries to speak, her throat too dry for the words to push through. Her jaw just hangs open, lips parted as the sound refuses to be heard.

Steve's frown deepens, his eyes flickering from the envelope to her face then back again as he reaches out to take it from her hand. Her arm flops down to her side, Liz taking a weary step backward from the drawer, allowing him to see.

She should warn him of what is in there. But the words fail her again.

Liz watches as he feels the small object inside the envelope before opening it, the frown never leaving his face as he confusedly wonders what it is. She cringes as he tears it open, taking another step back as she watches his face fall into a look of disgust.

His eyes snap back up to hers as he struggles to find something to say.

"Lizzie.. What? What is this?"

She knows Steve knows what it is in there. What it means. But she owes him an explanation. It is long-overdue.

"I...it has been happening for the last two months," Liz manages to squeak out, forcing herself not to look at the envelope and look her friend in the eye, "Saoirse went missing. I tried looking for her. But then the first envelope arrived."

Steve's eyes fall to the open drawer, seeing the other packages. He swallows down some bile, now that he knows what they contain.

"A few weeks later another one came. I don't have the stomach to open them again," she clears her throat, her stomach queasing.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Liz recoils as he asks her that, having dreaded it. She finds some courage in the way he sounds more distressed than offended.

"I wanted to, I did try. But things were happening, and escalating, and I just- I don't know, I -"

Steve nods, putting the envelope down on the dresser, making sure the opening faces away from Lizzie so she does not have to see what is inside. He understands. The last few weeks had been mental to say the least. And the two of them were not exactly in the best place. He isn't angry with her, if anything, he is angry at himself for not being there. Being too wrapped up in himself and his arrogance. Yet again, he has let her down.

"Do you know who is behind it?" he asks, hoping to put those thoughts behind him for now and get on with helping her, his main priority. This is not the time to be wrapped up in himself again. Lizzie needs him.

She shakes her head, arms folding across her body, "No, and there has never been a note or anything. But if... for them to… to know about Saoirse, they must have either been in the flat or-"

"Or following you," he finishes for her, seeing the way her body is shaking anxiously.

"I thought someone had been following me," Liz closes her eyes, shuddering at the memory, "A few times when I would walk back from work. I thought of almost anyone it could be, but was still somehow convinced I was imagining things. Must have happened at least three times before the envelopes started arriving, when the following would stop. It was a man, I could work that out, but never saw a face or heard a voice. Didn't think much of it, not like it is uncommon for a woman to be followed like that when it is dark. I thought it was Danny to begin with-"

"Danny Waldron?"

"Yeah, after the way he had glared at me after his first interview. Thought maybe he remembered me and felt like I had been feeding you all the wrong impression of him or something, I don't know. But then he died, and the following happened again. Then the first envelope came."

"And it is just the three envelopes?"

"So far, yeah."

"Then we have another chance to catch the bastard," Steve grits his teeth, assuming there will be a fourth package.

"No, Steve, please," Liz almost shouts, "If you go after them you could get hurt-"

"And if I don't, _you_ could get hurt. I won't allow that to happen."

Liz stays quiet, unsure how to respond to that, her heart beating wildly as it warms.

"Lizzie," Steve sighs regrettably, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose, "You should have said something."

"I know, I did try. I promise. But with everything-," she holds back a wail, gaze falling to her feet as her cheeks heat again, embarrassed, "I'm so sorry."

"No, no," he pleads, shaking his head and taking a step to stand in front of her.

He carefully reaches out, placing a finger gently under her chin, chucking it softly to make her look up at him. She meets his eyes as his hand moves to rest on hr cheek.

" _I_ am sorry," Steve whispers, "I should have been here. I should have helped."

Liz shakes her head slightly, pressing her face further into his warm palm.

He ignores her protest, looking her in the eye as his other hand also moves to cup her face, thumbs caressing her cheeks, "But I am here now. And I want to help, whatever I can do."

Liz lets out a small sound, something between a sob and a chuckle, her hands coming to cover his on her face, "Thank you, Steve."

He nods, his own face breaking into a small smile as hers does, "We will sort this. We can report it to the branch tomorrow, ok?"

"Ok," Liz resigns, finally breathing again when he lowers his hands from her face, though moves to continue holding theirs between them, "But can we keep it lowkey? You know how protective Ted can be, and I can't handle another smothering or suspension."

Steve chuckles again, knowing she won't budge on that, "Sure."

It is as if Liz can feel the weight lifted from her shoulder immediately, relaxing with every stroke of his thumb across the back of her hand. She should have told him so long ago.

He lets go or a moment, putting the envelope in the drawer along with the other two and closing it.

"You can be so recklessly selfless sometimes," he shakes his head with an endeared smile as he takes her hand again.

"And you can be so recklessly self _ish_ ," she quips quickly, regretting it immediately, unsure where that sudden flash of anger came from.

Liz pulls her hands away from him and takes a step back, shaking her head in shame of what she has just said, "Steve, I am sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's ok," Steve says, nodding and reaching for her hands again to prove himself, "Really, I get it."

Liz unwinds immediately, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, accepting his hands.

He understands. That things have been so overwhelmingly complex and contradictory and confusing - she doesn't know how to feel. He is just the same.

"I have been an arse, and things need to change," Steve confesses to Liz's surprise, "This is a new start, an opportunity for things to be better. And things will be, I believe that."

Liz nods, eagerly, gripping his hand tighter.

"I won't let you down again," Steve promises, "We just need to be honest with each other."

"No more secrets," Liz agrees, thinking briefly back over all the times things could have gone differently if they had just told one another what was going on.

"No more secrets," Steve repeats, smiling at her.

Liz smiles back, heart beating longingly at the idea of things improving; herself and Steve healing together and growing together.

"Let's finish that episode, hm?" Steve suggests, keeping one of his hands over hers as he begins to lead them back to the sofa, "Still convinced Mrs Figg is guilty."

"Ah," Liz teases, her smile widening at his mockingly cocky tone, "still hooked on the theory she pushed her husband onto that rake and killed him?"

"Oh, I'm certain," he laughs, pressing play on the laptop as they settle back on the sofa, Steve opening his arm out once again for her to curl up beside him, which she does without hesitation.

A little further into the episode, Liz glances up at the man beside her, so enthralled in the crappy drama on the screen.

She smiles.

This really is a new start for them. A chance to put everything behind them and move on - together.

It warms her heart to hear Steve admitting his mistakes, wanting to learn from them and better himself. And Liz wants the same. Their friendship means more to her than - well, most things.

He has been nothing but good to her. Patient and kind and warm.

 _A good man_ , Ted had said. And he really is. The best.

She isn't sure what she would do without him, especially now, when everything feels as though it has collapsed around her. Him helping her to pick up the pieces, make sense of them. Him being the only thing that she knows is true. Keeping her grounded when she could so easily be floating in the deep, dark abyss. Holding her hand, pulling her back.

For him to forgive her the way he did, not worrying about getting justice for what happened to him. Seeming to be more concerned with how she is doing than himself.

She is so used to looking out for everyone. But she needs it now, more than ever - for someone to look out for her. Especially when she is doubting herself so terribly, after such a betrayal. Needing to have someone and something she can trust.

Liz knows Steve is there. Liz knows she has him back. Liz knows she will not let him go again.

If Dot could use their relationship against them, as he had done so cruelly, anyone could. In fact, the more Liz thought about it, even Denton had tried to come between them. It all made sense now. All those moments and looks and comments, like at the funeral when Lindsay had taken Steve's hand before pointedly scowling at her, or the times she would request for her to attend the interviews where she would call Steve out for his behaviour, looking over to Liz as if to want to revel in her reaction. She knew the pair were close, and she used it to her benefit. To rip them apart, as her revenge. And Liz had been too ignorant to realise it.

But she knows now. How cruel people can be. And how much her friendship with Steve means to her.

No one will get to do that to them again.

Liz won't allow that to happen.

Her smile widens as he turns to look down at her, a smile brightening his own face. Her cheeks heat a little at being caught staring, as he raises a questioning brow at her.

She just shrugs, turning her face away from him to look at the screen. Steve chuckles slightly, confused but amused, tightening his arm around her as he also returns to the screen. She snuggles further into his side, an arm snaking over his waist to rest there. He watches as it moves, the skin almost burning under her touch, making his stomach twist (for some reason).

With his cheek pressed against her hairline, careful of the still healing stitches there, he sighs, content.

How lucky is he to have this moment of normalcy despite everything that had gone, and is going, on?

How lucky is he to have someone beside him he cares so deeply about and that acres so deeply for him too?

How lucky is he to have her?

_My Lizzie._


	37. Chapter Thirty-Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long to come out, I promise I have a few more lined up so updates should be more regular over the holidays. I am not too satisfied with this chapter but I hope it pays off with what is to come in the next chapters! As always, let me know what you think and enjoy!

_I don't want to be here._

That's all Liz can think as she sits beside Steve, Kate and Ted at the table, watching the Deputy Assistant Commissioner blabber on about this and that. Liz doesn't care to listen.

She shouldn't be so dismal, this is a happy occasion… _sort of_. If she forgets the context in which it is happening, that is.

And how can she? When they are _here_? Where _he_ was the last time they were here?

_Why did I even come?_

"So it brings me great pleasure to welcome to the stage Detective Constable Kate Fleming."

Liz snaps out of it for a moment, clapping with a smile as her friend sends her a nervous look before walking up to the stage. _That's why I am here._

To see one of her closest friends receive an award for her outstanding bravery.

She shares a proud look with Steve beside her, the pair rising from their seats to give a standing ovation for their friend as she shakes the DAC's hand.

It is the least that woman deserves, in Liz's mind. After all she has done, all she has contributed to the force. Perhaps there would even be a promotion in it for her. By the way Hastings is smiling up at her, that chuffed fatherly-look Liz now recognises as pride brightening his face, that seems likely.

Kate is more than worthy of it after… everything...

Liz almost stumbles back into her seat as the applauds come to a stop, the sound becoming muffled around her as her thoughts begin to resound as she thinks of all that has happened - _again_.

She has felt better, even beginning to show up at work for a few hours a day to ease back into it. Steve has been making sure to discourage others from smothering her with sympathy, knowing that's the last thing she wants or needs. He doesn't know she knows what he has been doing, but watching him go around the office, having quiet words with their coworkers, his eyes occasionally catching hers across the room as he does. And then, of course, keeping her company the way he has been. At hers pretty much every day, even just to check in for a moment and see if she needs him to get anything for her or stay a while longer for a tea and more Midsommer Murders.

Kate and Ted have been brilliant too, only bringing it up when necessary, but not acting as though nothing has happened. That would be the worst thing. Not learning from it, not growing out of it. Kate's award and the rumours of promotion possibilities floating around has also helped to lift Liz's spirits, relieved to see things improving for her friend, along with the increased visits she is allowed with her son. Herself and Ted have gone for many more lunches together in the few weeks since, it starting to become a ritual, giving them time away from the office to be godfather and daughter instead of colleagues. It means so much to her to have that time.

But she doubts things will be better so soon. Especially with the way her mind spontaneously decides to flood her sense again with memories of that day, of everything. She has hardly slept, sometimes forgetting to eat. Liz is sure she looks like it too, not even having the energy to style her hair for such a formal occasion, simply throwing it into a ponytail and trying to hide the dark circles under her eyes with a bit of makeup.

Steve had suggested she wear that green dress, the one she wore the last time they were at an event like this, when he reminded her of their invite. Liz was surprised he even remembered, him seeming to be quite enthusiastic about getting her dressed up and out again, thinking it will do her some good.

But it won't. It isn't.

Instead, she is sat here in her trouser suit, hands shaking as she looks around the room, ghosts of the last time she was there taunting her.

All those things he was guilty of, doing behind her back and that smug smile of his. They are not even quite sure what he would even be charged with, uncertain of the extent to his involvement. Trafficking and grooming young girls, and boys, protecting abusers, forgery, bribing, blackmail, conspiracy, murder - it splits her head just trying to comprehend it.

And with all that, she had been _here_ with _him_ , none the wiser to any of it.

Being in this room, it is all so clear to her as she recalls.

The way that man had complimented her, kissed her cheek, been so charming. It makes her sick.

The way she had been _proud_ of him, praised him, been so foolish.

Her chest is on fire as she thinks of it, reaching unsteadily for the glass on the table in front of her, chugging back a few gulps of the champagne, relieved to feel the burn as it glides down her throat worrying how numb she had become.

Thoughts swirl as she places the glass back down. Regret, anger, blame, heartache.

She really _had_ been proud. Not just that time, when Dot received that award and promotion. But all that she thought she knew. How he managed to pull himself out of that gambling addiction and the drinking and the divorce and do better. Part of her is still happy for him, not being able to fully hate a man who did seem to care for her, even taking bullets to protect her. But it is apparent to her now, he would always be trapped. He could never escape what was really holding him down, who was really after him. NO wonder he had turned to those addictions.

_How well can you know anyone?_

Liz shudders as his words float into her head.

It's like he was trying to tell her, to warn her. Like he wanted her to know. Knew that she could see him, for who he was and wanted to be.

That's why she feels how she does. That she owes him. To get to the bottom of it all. To end it.

But how? Where do they go from here? And what can _she_ offer? She isn't even an investigator?

_You can see things, about situations and about people, that others don't._

She squeezes her eyes closed for a moment, her hands coming to grip onto the edges of her seat. Both wanting to drown him out and find comfort in that memory.

_You listen, you care, and you don't expect anything out of it_

It is Steve's voice she hears next, remembering the words he had said to her by the riverside.

_You do it because that's who you are. A good person. You have a good heart._

Her heart begins to warm, her hands beginning to cease their shaking as she desperately clings to that memory, it drowning everything else out.

 _I know, if everything was beating me down like that, I would want you there. I_ do _._

That's all she needs. The reassurance she longs for.

Her heart beats wildly with the newfound surge of confidence it brings about, her eyes opening to watch as Kate finishes her speech on stage, feeling a pang of guilty for not having heard a word of it.

She can't forget the way he made her feel. She can't forgive herself for not having realised and done more to help. But she can try to make things better.

Liz feels resolved now. If she is to rectify her mistakes, the ones she beats herself for despite Steve's pleads that she is not to blame, she needs to solve it. Do what she can. That's all she can do. Her best. For him _and_ herself.

"Maneet, that's wonderful! Oh I am so happy for you!"

"What's this?" Steve asks as he approaches the two women, a smile stretching across his face as he sees Lizzie's own bright grin.

Maneet smiles too, holding a hand to her stomach, "I'm pregnant."

Steve's smile widens as he shares a delighted look with the woman next to him, "Congratulations! How far along are you?"

"Oh, only a few weeks. Found out a few days ago," Maneet beams, looking between them, "Can't wait for little Haresh to have a baby brother or sister."

"I really am so happy, bless you," Liz continues to grin.

"Yeah, if you need anything, just give us a shout," Steve offers, kindly.

"Yes, please let us know!" Liz affirms, Maneet smiling thankfully at them both.

"You ready to go?" Steve then asks her, looking at his watch.

"Oh," Liz shakes her head, "I can walk back, it isn't far."

He frowns slightly, "You sure?"

"Yeah, really," Liz shrugs, waving goodbye to Maneet as the woman goes to greet some of the other guests.

Steve chews his lower lip, unnerved at the idea of her walking home alone so late. Especially after all she has finally confessed to him about the anonymous man who had been following her and the envelopes arriving through her door.

"Steve," Liz sighs, noting the overly-concerned look on his face, "Stay, enjoy the night. Kate will want you here."

"I would feel better if I drove you back," he almost pleads.

But she shakes her head, "It's fine, honestly. And don't think I didn't see you necking those champagnes. You shouldn't be driving anywhere."

Steve quietly chuckles at that tease, Liz herself smiling a little.

"To be honest, I could do with the headspace," she confesses, arms coming to cross her stomach.

He sighs, knowing tonight was probably too much for her, despite her insistence she had to come to support Kate, and she needs time to herself, "Alright. But call me as soon as you get back."

"I will," she says, touched by his consideration.

Liz unfolds her arms, reaching them out to embrace him around his neck. Steve responds immediately, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she says in his ear, muffled slightly by the way her face is pressed into his blazer.

"Yeah, see you," he says as they part, watching as she sends him one more smile before going to find Kate to say goodbye.

The two women embrace as Liz finds her in the crowd, Kate clearly asking her if she is alright to go home alone, Steve unable to hear their conversation from where he is standing but can tell by the way Kate's face falter slightly and her eyes flick to him for a brief moment, to which he shrugs.

Liz eventually grabs her jacket from a nearby chair, sending one more wave his way before walking out the door.

That pain in his chest burns again as he watches her go.

* * *

"Good evening," Liz greets a man standing just outside her apartments, smoking a cigarette. She is sure she has seen him outside here before, a few times. He must live in one of the flats upstairs.

The bald man smiles back at her, nodding, as he takes another drag.

She opens the front door, fumbling with her keys as she approaches her own flat, her fingers frozen. Liz shudders happily, the warmth from inside caressing her reddened cheeks instantly.

There is nothing more she wants now than to change into her pyjamas and snuggle up under her duvet with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. She almost sighs at the thought.

Raising her keys to insert them in the lock, twisting them to open her door.

Once she is inside, she begins to undo her jacket, flinging it across the back of the dining chair as she always does. Tossing the keys onto the side table, Liz finally sighs, relieved to be back in her own space.

But that breath is caught by a creaking sound behind her.

Her shoulders tense, her body completely still as her ears strain to work out whatever is over her shoulder.

The floorboard creaks again.

There is a shadow behind her.

_Someone is here..._

As she begins to turn, her vision blurs, a sharp pain splintering her skull.

She has been hit.

Liz stumbles backward, steadying herself against the arm of her sofa as she wills her vision to refocus. Her hand comes to hold her head where it was battered by something, her throat too dry to speak.

The colours in front of her eyes begin to dissipate, the sight of a large blurred figure a few metres from her - growing bigger as they come closer, making their way towards her.

Liz panics, seeing the figure raise their arm, undoubtedly to grab at her, possibly hit her again. She bends to the side, ducking under their arm and fumbling as she does, her door now in sight.

She runs.

They catch her by the hair.

They tug at her ponytail, twisting it into their fist and yanking her backward so she falls to the floor on her knees.

Liz yells in pain, her hands coming up to claw at their hand, to no avail. Their other hand wraps around her throat, squeezing tightly.

She tries to throw her head back with as much force as she can muster through the pain, attempting to hit at them, knock them away.

But they - whoever they are - are much stronger than her, their hold tightening more and more.

Liz coughs, struggling for air.

She kicks a leg out, her knee twisting awkwardly and sharp, kicking at the person behind her.

That seems to work, them squawking slightly in pain as her leg connects with their shin. Their hold loosens a little.

That's her chance.

She begins to crawl away, almost ripping up the floorboards as she hauls herself along by the nails.

They grab her again, this time twisting her body around to pin her down by the shoulders.

Liz cries, choking on a sob as their face becomes clearer as they lean over her.

It is him.

Glenn Hurrell.

The man she got suspended from the force through her undercover operation last year.

That's who has been following her. That's who killed Saoirse.

For revenge?

She tries to yell again, but one of his sweaty bulbous palms covers her mouth, Liz cringing at the salty taste of them as she continues to scream.

Her body writhes beneath him in a desperate attempt to break free again, his knee coming to rest on her stomach, the other by her side, restraining her. His other hand also rises, capturing both her wrists and pinning them above her head.

"You little bitch," he spits at her, keeping his voice low.

Liz winces, not only at the pain of his weight on her, but the stench of his foul, hot breath in her face. Memories of his cruel advances on her during her mission come flooding back. The way he tried to touch her. Leered at her.

"You've ruined me. I lost my job because of you, my pension," he snarls, teeth baring like a frenzied dog, "And you thought I'd just let you get away?"

She screams again, his hand coming to compress against her mouth and jaw harder. Hurrell draws his face closer, eyes scanning her face. A small, deranged smile overrules his face, taking some pride in the way he has tormented and got her now.

Liz kicks her legs, hoping to catch him again, but the knee pressed onto her stomach comes down harder, making her cry out in agony.

"I think you owe me an apology," Hurrell snides, moving his hand slightly as if inviting her to speak. The hand falls instead to her neck, squeezing there jeeringly.

Liz frantically sucks in breaths, her chest heaving as it rises and falls in desperate need for air.

She tries to speak, to say something in between flailing her limbs to try and make an impact against his body. But her lips are too dry, cracking as she makes any attempt.

She is panicking.

Hurrell just laughs, the sound cruel and grating as he leans in even closer to her, his grip ever-increasing its fierceness.

"No?" he sneers, "Well, then maybe you can make up for it in another way."

Liz is sure her heart gives out at that. As his hand scratches against her skiing as it trails down from her neck to her collar, fisting the material there.

Her body stills, no matter how much she wants it to fight back, as she hears the sound of her shirt being ripped from the collar to below her left breast, the sound of buttons pinging off the floor beside her.

She goes to scream again, as his hand claws towards the breast behind her exposed bra. He brings the hand that was holding her wrists down to cover her mouth in an attempt to quieten her.

Liz uses that chance, with her hands now free, to smack at him; hitting his face, his neck, chest, stomach, whatever she can reach as she wildly thrashes.

But he is so much bigger than her. Overpowers her again, easily.

He uses his knees and shins to pin her arms to her sides, the hand on her mouth pushing so hard her teeth cut into the flesh. She is sure she can taste the coppery tinge of blood mixed with the salt of his sweat and her tears.

"You _bitch_!" he growls again, his free hand now making a grab at her thigh, "Let's finish what we started at that bar, eh?"

She sobs, desperate for help as his hand creeps its way up to her trouser waistband. Her own hand, still pinned by his leg, moves hopelessly towards her trousers too in an attempt to stop whatever he is going to do.

That's when she feels it.

In her pocket.

 _Call me as soon as you get back_.

Her phone.

Coiling her wrist uncomfortably as she tries to reach into her pocket, Hurrell seems to catch on to her movement, removing his hand from her thigh and slapping hers away. He reaches into her pocket, ripping out the device and throwing it to the side. Liz winces again as she hears it crack, unable to see where it has landed from his forceful hold on her face.

Hurrell returns his hand to her thigh as she sobs, it mauling at her trouser waistband, the fly bursting by his brutality.

Dark dots begin to obscure her vision. Her chest heaves desperately for air. The room spins.

Liz can't believe this is happening.

She tries to bite at his hand, kick at him, hit her hands wherever she could - but nothing deters him from what he wants to do to her.

_This is really going to happen. I am really going to be-_

Hurrell jumps off her at the sound of the door smashing open.

Liz starts to cough, her eyes squeezing shut in pain as she hears a calamity around her. She tries to open her eyes, to find out what is going on, who else is here - but her stomach burns, her head pounds, her cheek stings. She needs to catch her breath.

The commotion to the side of her continues, the muffled sound of shouting, yet no individual voices recognisable above the overbearing drumming of her heartbeat in her ears.

Liz tries to haul herself up, her hand coming up to her cheek, pulling it away to see blood on her fingertips. He must have cut her.

She shakes her head to try and clear it.

_What is going on? Who is here? Are they here to help me? Should I run? Why is the light so bright, I need to see-_

Liz flinches harshly as two hands fall onto her shoulders, gripping slightly. She tries to bat them away, kicking her legs out once again at whoever was kneeling in front of her.

That's when she hears it.

His voice.

"Lizzie?"

 _Steve_.


	38. Chapter Thirty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the last chapter was rough, I really am sorry! but I hope it proves necessary and that this next chapter makes up for it! I think you are all going to like this one, but make sure to let me know your thoughts! thank you so much for reading!!

He thought he was going to throw up his own heart by the way it jumped into his throat when the PC called him. Telling him he heard a disturbance in her flat. Something that sounded like a scream.

He instructed the officer to stay put and call backup, not wanting to escalate the situation until he got there and knew she was safe. He dropped everything, running to his car and blaring the sirens to get there as fast as he could.

He should never have let her go home on her own...

The officer was there, waiting for him outside the apartment building, an apprehensive look on his face as he opened the first door. Steve rushed through, running to her flat and pressing his ear against the door. At first he heard nothing, but then there was a noise. The slightest squeal.

That's all it took for him to run at the door, bursting the lock and breaking in.

His stomach dropped when he saw her on the floor, pinned down by that man, crying out for help.

The man had jumped from her immediately, eyes wide in shock at his appearance.

Steve recognised Hurrell immediately, blood boiling as he moved further into the flat, the man retreating desperately.

There was a brief staredown, the older man glaring at Steve and the officer behind him. Steve made the first move, rushing over to where the man helplessly tried to get away, jumping on top of him to stop him from running. The other officer moved quickly too, helping him to pin the man down as they struggled. They finally won the upperhand, the man relenting as he lost the energy to fight back. As soon as they had him secured, Steve ignored his curses and taunts to finally whip his head around to Lizzie, where she was now sat up, a hand pressed against her head as she stared at the ground, dazed.

He hastily approaches, sliding along the floor to kneel in front of her and reach out his arms to hold her shoulders before he can stop himself. He regrets the sudden movement when she flinches, her arms beginning to hit at his own.

He keeps his hold there, trying to ground her, allowing the hits to come until she realises. She is clearly unfocussed, lost in the attack.

The young woman looks so helpless. A blooming bruise on her jaw and throat, a sharp cut on her cheek, her lips dry and cracked. Her hair is matted. She is pale, frighteningly so. And her shirt is torn on one side, a few busted buttons laying around her. Her bra is partly exposed, the waistband of her trousers torn too.

His heart breaks.

 _Shit_. He should have been here.

"Lizzie?"

He watches as her vision begins to focus at the sound of his voice, gaze rising slowly to meet his own.

Her eyes widen slightly as they look up to his face, a relieved recognition flitting across her pale features.

She falls into him immediately, body flopping fraily against his own. Her arms remain hanging limp by her sides as she sobs against his chest, his own arms encircling her shoulders to draw her closer.

One of his palms comes to rest against the back of her head, cradling it to him.

"You're safe now, Lizzie," he whispers, with all the calmness he can muster despite the way her wailing worries his stomach, "You're safe."

She sniffles, body wracking against his as she cries.

"I'm here," he assures, gripping her tighter for emphasis, though not too tight as to hurt her.

Steve can hear the man yelling somewhere behind them as he struggles with the officer, so slightly turns his body so that Lizzie does not have to look his way over his shoulder. He is unsure what the man is saying, the yells incoherent and slurred - and ultimately, they don't matter to him. What matters is Lizzie is safe, in his arms.

The other officer gives Hurrell another push, forcing him more harshly against the ground, twisting his arms tighter behind his back. Steve feels his blood boil more fervently as he watches, feeling compelled to go over there. Shout at him. Beat him. Avenge what he has done to her.

But he stays, holding her as she cries. She is his priority now, not that fucker.

How could he forget that man was still out there? After what he did to Lizzie over a year ago at that bar, when he had to step in. He would never forget the image of her panicking while he touched her, making an advance. Lizzie had been angry at him for it, for 'ruining her mission'. But this is what he had feared.

Just then, Steve turns as the door opens slightly wider, a group of three officers walking in and surveying the scene.

Steve goes to stand, slowly, encouraging Lizzie to do the same as he loosens his hold on her and takes her hands to help her up. He immediately pulls her back into him once they are standing, concerned by how easy it is to do so with her body now limp. He presses his body against her more, not only to continue comforting her but to save her the humiliation of them seeing her ripped shirt and exposed bra.

"I want that man arrested and taken into custody," he instructs the new arrivals, fury punctuating every word as his eyes flick dangerously towards the man still being held on the floor, "Get him out of here. Now."

The officers nod, making their way over to the man. Steve hears them struggle as he turns to look back down at the woman in his arms, still crying quietly as she desperately grips onto the front of his shirt.

He turns their bodies again when the man is hauled past them and out of the flat, so he stands between him and Lizzie, protectively. Steve makes sure to glare at him until he disappears, his rage reverberating in his bones.

Steve exhales when the man is finally gone. He returns his gaze down to Lizzie, pulling her in closer, if possible. His cheek comes to rest against the crown of her head as they stand there in her empty flat.

"Sir," a voice says, Steve turning to see the first officer looking over to him, "What now?"

Steve sighs, voice now quiet as his hold remains on the woman, "I'm going to take her back to mine, get her cleaned up. Make sure he's kept there until I can get to him. No one deals with him until I do. I'll come by tomorrow."

The officer nods, moving to the door to leave. Steve feels Lizzie raise her head, looking to the other man. Her brows crease slightly as she studies him as he leaves, assumably recognising him and only now realising he had been stationed as surveillance for this exact reason.

Her head falls back against Steve's chest once he is gone and the door is closed. He is unsure how long the two of them stand there in that embrace, before Lizzie begins to take a step back. It is only small, though, so she cranes her neck to look up at him, hands still gripping tightly to his shirt.

Steve moves his hands from her back to her shoulders as he waits for her to speak, eyes flitting occasionally to the cut across her cheek, his heart breaking every time he does.

He anticipates whatever she is going to say, but it never comes. Her gaze simply falling to the space on the floor beside them where Hurrell had her pinned down and was going to...

She shakes her head, ridding herself of the thought. The movement aches.

"You ok?" Steve asks her, softly. Scared of the answer.

Lizzie wants to respond, but is unsure how. So simply replies with the slightest shake of her head.

Steve sighs deeper, letting go of her for a moment to pull off his jacket and wrap it around her shoulders. He tugs it across her, carefully not to be too aggressive as well as to keep his gaze appropriate as he covers her ripped shirt.

It worries him even more, the way she stands there almost lifeless as he does that, just looking up at him with big, sad, dull eyes.

She grips the edges of the jacket once Steve replaces his hands on her upper-arms, pulling it tighter around herself so that her arms are crossed over her stomach.

Her gaze then falls to their other side, Steve following it to see her phone, cracked on the floor. He reaches down to pick it up, seeing it is not as damaged as he first feared on closer inspection, putting it into his pocket.

"Come on," he whispers, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "Let's get you out of here."

* * *

The drive to his flat is silent. She still has not spoken. It worries him. But Steve knows she needs time to process it all. She will speak when she is ready.

He opens the car door for her when she shows no sign of moving when he pulls up outside his place. Just staring in a distressed haze at the dashboard, his jacket tucked around her tightly. She is stuck somewhere he isn't.

Steve takes her arm, her flinching slightly as he does, gently pulling her up and out of the vehicle. His arm immediately wraps around her shoulders to guide her shaking legs to the door. He hesitates letting go of Lizzie as he reaches into his pocket to get his keys, hastily opening the door to step back to her again, an arm reaching under hers to steady her somewhat swaying form. She leans into him, her weight almost entirely resting against his shoulder. She stumbles over her feet as he leads her into the apartment, but he catches her, his back pushing the door wide open for her to pass by. He makes a point of locking the door behind them, one hand still enclosed around hers.

He lets go of his hold around her as they step further into the flat, ready to move to the kitchen. A hand tightening its way around his wrist stops him, pulling him back around to face her.

Lizzie's gaze slowly lifts to meet his, her eyes glistening with tears struggling to fall from her aching eyes. Her mouth trembles, opening only slightly before clamping shut, her jaw tight. She is struggling to even speak. Steve's heart shatters, his hand turning to hold hers in his.

"I will be back, I'm just going to get you some water," he whispers, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

She just shakes her head, the most rapid movement he has seen from her since leaving her flat. Her eyes begin to water a little more too, his stomach jolting.

Steve nods, tightening his hold around her hand and nudging slightly to get her to move alongside him, "Let's get that cut cleaned up then, that alright?"

The young woman nods, relaxing only slightly, moving beside him as he guides her to his bathroom.

The pair enter the small space, Steve taking his time to release her hand gently, their fingers brushing with reluctance to let go. Without him to cling onto for the moment, Lizzie braces herself against the sink, leaning against it as she watches him open up a cupboard, pulling out some saline solution and cotton wool. He moves back beside her, wetting one of the pads under the tap with warm water before moving to stand in front of her.

"Want to hop up there?" he suggests, nodding to the counter she is leaning against, "Just so I can reach it easier."

She nods slowly, reaching her arms up to brace herself against his shoulders, lifting her feet from the floor to sit on the counter beside the sink. Lizzie lowers her arms from his shoulders once she is stable, Steve taking a step forward to stand between her legs to inspect the cut closer. He cringes as his eyes roam over each mark; the cut on her cheek, the bruise on her forehead and throat, the paleness of her skin, the darkness under her eyes.

Liz avoids his eye as he gazes, sure she looks as terrible as she feels. Liz is certain the cut looks worse, her face too numb to actually feel it. Though, the heat tinging her cheeks flame as Steve flits his eyes over her face, eyes widening and wincing as they move.

She lowers her gaze, not wanting to watch his expression any more, his sympathy stabbing at her. Lizzie hears him exhale, cool fingers coming up to gently brush her matted hair away from her forehead as he takes a step closer.

"This is going to sting," Steve whispers, Lizzie feeling his breath brush her cheekbones at such a close proximity.

She tenses as she anticipates the pain, the cotton pad coming to irritate against the cut. Liz's grip tightens against the counter as she hisses, lips cracking with the movement. She can feel Steve falter at the noise but still persist, knowing it needs to be cleaned.

"Almost done," Steve murmurs, kindly, as he takes a few more swipes at the injury.

His other hand comes to rest on hers, stroking softly to comfort her.

It works. The touch grounds her. Lizzie relaxes immediately, her grip on the counter loosening as her hand turns to grip his, the pair holding onto each other as he finishes wiping the cut.

The soft caress, despite its humbleness, distracts her. The pain of her face is forgotten as she becomes enamoured by the movement of his thumb, and the feeling of her hand enclosed in his.

His cool breath extinguishes the fire of the rubbing alcohol fusing against the cut as it fans across her face.

She had thought she may flinch from him, reject any touch after such a cruel attack. She had a few times since, accidentally; more a result of being broken from her thoughts - replaying what happened over and over and over - rather than a repulsion to the feeling.

In fact, she seems to seek it out as she grips tighter. _His_ touch.

Grounding her, comforting her. Safe.

So familiar, so warm, so gentle - so _Steve_.

Lizzie had fallen into him immediately upon realising he was there in her flat, saving her. She had hardly allowed him to let go of his hold on her since.

It makes her light-head even lighter. That even after all she has been through, all she can think of right now is him. That there is nowhere else she would rather be than here. With him. In his hold.

Her gaze slowly lifts from their joined hands to his face.

Her cheeks flush.

He is standing closer than she thought, looking at her cut with such an overwhelming tenderness.

Her chest aches.

She wants to cry.

Her hand squeezes even tighter around his fingers.

She can only watch as Steve gives the cut one more press with the cotton pad, lowering it with one last glance-over. His eyes meet hers, looking up at him so reverently. So close.

Lizzie's breath hitches as he sighs into a small, assuring smile - though she passes the strangled noise off as a result of her sore, torn throat.

Steve throws the bloodied cotton into the bin, returning his hand gently to the side of her face, careful not to irritate the injury. He follows the movement with his eyes as his thumb grazes over the cut, eventually moving beyond it to tuck some unruly strands of red hair behind her ear before returning to rest it against her cheekbone.

His eyes return to hers, stomach jolting at the look in her eye. He can't quite place it. The distant, petrified haze has cleared, replaced with something indistinguishable. Eyes wide as they stare up at him, long lashes glossed with old tears. In the quiet and the still, and indulging in being so close to her, Steve notes how the harsh lighting of his bathroom reflects off the flecks of light in her eyes. Still bright despite the dullness of her pallor. How her face is leaning ever-so-gently into his palm. Nose reddened at the tip, cheeks tinged a slight rouge (likely from where he had just stung the wound there).Torn and dry, yet plump lips, parted slightly as she gawps up at him-

He shudders.

Steve's eyes jump back to hers, realising he has been staring too long. She has not taken her eyes off him all that time, still gazing up with that look - whatever it is. Her hand remains wrapped around his own, the other gripping to the counter as if steadying herself.

He cannot help but gaze over her again, her lack of opposition or questioning encouraging him to indulge further. But his eagerness disappoints him.

He no longer finds contentment in her features. His eye is only drawn to the corruption; the cut cruelly cracking the porcelain skin, the purple bruise blooming on the long expanse of her throat, the ripped waistband of her trousers-

He shudders again.

He followed her, threatened her, tormented her. He touched her. He hurt her. That man. That fucker…

_Who knows what I will do when I visit that cell-_

Feeling him tense, Lizzie raises her hand not already in his to the one holding her face, assuredly placing hers gently over it. His gaze had darkened for a moment, thoughts clearly running wildly behind them. It concerned her, scared her even. Though her touch seems to alleviate any heaviness pressing down on him, as Steve's eyes find hers again and soften almost instantly. She follows his example, brushing her thumb against the back of his hand as she holds it there against her face, the tips of his fingers pressed into her hairline.

He realises his anger, feeling guilty for the moment of weakness. Why is he allowing that man to occupy his thoughts when Lizzie is in front of him so broken? So in need of care?

Steve clears his throat, reluctantly lowering his hand from her face and easing his hold on the other against the counter. He takes a step back.

Lizzie almost whimpers at the loss of warmth their proximity bathed her in. She holds onto the edge of the counter stiffly, feeling unsteady without his hold to stabilise her.

He turns to the shower, turning the taps on before looking back at the young woman. He moves closer again, Liz straightening slightly in anticipation of touch, though deflates as she realises his outstretched hands are to assist her stepping down from the sink. She places her hands in his, revelling in the feeling throughout the brief hold, Steve helping to settle her on the ground before stepping back again.

He takes her demeanour in as he steps back, unnerved by the way her shoulders are slumped and toes tucked inward. His zipped jacket devours her frame, her trousers hanging limply off her hips with little strength left in them after such a vicious assault.

"I'll go get you some spare clothes while you shower," he suggests, heart pounding at the way her eyes widen hopelessly at the idea of being left alone, "I will be just outside the door, ok?"

Lizzie relaxes, even if only by a little, nodding weakly.

He sighs quietly, feet suddenly heavy and struggling to move from her as he makes his way to the door, "Use what you need."

She glances at the shower and to the towel beside it, then turns back to him with wringing hands.

"I will be right here," Steve reassures, pointedly but kindly, the door open to show her, "Just shout if you need me."

He waits until Lizzie nods again, unable to resist the steam beginning to radiate from the water. Steve watches as she goes to unzip the jacket, taking that as his cue to leave, closing the door quietly behind him.

He lets out a short breath, his hand coming to rub at his eyes for a brief moment before heading towards his bedroom. Grabbing the first t-shirt and joggers he can find, he rushes to the kitchen, deciding to also bring her a glass of water like he had intended to when they first arrived at his place. Moving back to the bathroom, spilling a little water in his haste, Steve sets the glass and pile of clothes down on the floor.

That's when he hears her.

His heart lurches uneasily.

She is crying.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, wincing at the noise, before moving to knock on the door. She quietens as he does.

"Lizzie?" he calls, "Everything alright?"

She doesn't answer.

Though Steve is unsure if he simply had not heard her over the sound of running water and his heart thumping.

"Lizzie?"

No answer, only quiet sobs.

"I'm going to come in," he decides, "Ok?"

He hears slight movement then, waiting a moment before finding the courage to open the door. Eventually his concern for her outweighs any worry of indecency.

As Steve goes to reach for the doorknob, it opens, revealing Lizzie wrapped in a towel, a hand holding it tight against herself.

Her face is red, both from apparent crying and perhaps embarrassment at her state.

"You alright?" he asks, softly, taking a step closer.

Her mouth opens slightly, recoiling in pain as she tries to speak for the first time since being at her flat. After a few squeakish attempts, she croaks through sniffs, "Undressing aggravated my arm. Tried to wash my hair-"

She lets out a sob, biting her already torn lips to try and repress it.

It is then that Steve looks downward, seeing the mass of bruising covering her forearm.

He reaches for it on impulse, hesitating when he realises his sudden movement may frighten her, "May I?"

Lizzie raises it for him to take, sighing away another cry as his fingers gently hold it, turning it slightly to inspect the markings.

"Must be from where he pinned me," she whispers, solemnly.

Steve lowers her arm slowly as he begins to seethe again, feeling the need to snap something but not wanting to hurt or frighten her any more.

He looks up to her face instead, feeling himself calm instantly. There are a few suds on her bare shoulders and on the arm that holds the towel, showing she had attempted to clean herself. But her hair, though wet, remains matted and dull.

"Would you like me to wash it?"

Lizzie's breath hitches again, covered by an attempt to clear her sore throat. It hurts.

She nods, feebly, unable to take her wide eyes away from the tender look in his eye.

He gestures with his arm for her to move over to the sink, grabbing the shampoo as he follows. She hesitates once there, looking at him curiously as she waits for Steve to tell her what to do next.

"Sorry," he says, Liz's brow furrowing slightly, "It's that shitty two-in-one stuff blokes use. Hope that's alright?"

She would smile if she could. But the action will hurt too much. She nods instead, turning to face the sink.

Gripping onto the towel tighter, as to not entirely expose herself to him, Lizzie leans over the sink, her hair flopping forward into the bowl. Steve takes a slow step closer, turning on the tap, "Is that temperature alright?"

She nods again, hoping he can see the movement from under her messed matt of hair.

Standing to her side, Steve cups his hands, splashing the water against her head as he lathers in some of the shampoo. Lizzie suppresses a groan as his fingers massage the lotion into her hair, threading delightfully along her irritated scalp. He continues this for a few minutes, hoping to bring her some comfort in the cleansing, as well as, admittedly, enjoying the contact. He cups his hand again, bringing more water to her head to wash away the shampoo, his fingers gently combing through the hair to rid it of the tangles that had formed. Once finished, Steve turns off the tap, nudging her shoulder lightly to signify she can stand again.

As Lizzie does, he turns her around with her back to the sink, reaching from beside her to scoop the hair into his hands and ring off some of the water. Letting go and reaching to the drawers to retrieve his comb, he feels her eyes on him, just watching as he once again steps behind her to brush through her red locks. With each stroke, he sees her relax, even hearing her sigh somewhat contentedly.

Steve does this for a few moments longer than necessary, greedily indulging in the way her back arches as the comb threads through her hair, and the way the water droplets run silkily along the skin of her shoulders before being absorbed by the edge of the towel.

Lizzie finally allows herself to shudder when he steps away to return the comb to the drawer, having repressed one at the feeling of his breath on her exposed upper-back.

"I'll be in the kitchen when you're finished. Need to get you something to eat," Steve announces, quietly, moving to the door with a small smile, "I have some clothes for you."

He picks up the pile and places them on the counter by the sink.

"Steve," she says as he goes to leave again, one hand already on the door.

He turns to her, expectantly, melting at the sight of her.

"Thank you," she whispers, the faintest hint of a gratuitous smile on her lips. The most she can muster through the pain.

He feels himself grin a little too, though decides against responding. Now is not the time to argue that she has nothing to be thankful for. That he should have done more. That he blames himself.

Instead, he closes the door behind him.

* * *

A few minutes later, now clean and dressed in his t-shirt and joggers, Lizzie leaves the bathroom to find Steve. Seeing him in the kitchen cooking something on the hob, she slowly moves over to him, his eyes turning almost as soon as she enters the space. They soften from their concentrated gaze as they take in her appearance, finding the bagginess of his clothes swallowing her timid form somewhat endearing. He tries not to focus too long on her injuries, fearing he will become angry again.

"Are eggs ok?" Steve asks as she moves to stand beside him. She looks down to what he is cooking, seeing a pan of broken eggs.

She nods, her continued quiet worrying him a little.

He turns away from her for a moment, reaching for the milk on the side and pouring some into the mixture, before replacing the lid and stirring the eggs.

Lizzie feels her heart jump. He remembered. That her mother always used to add milk into the mixture. That silly, little, non-important anecdote she had mentioned.

"Take a seat, I'll bring it over in a minute," he offers, gesturing to the sofa.

She does so, turning so she can continue to watch him as he goes about the kitchen to plate up her eggs.

Eventually, he brings them over on a plate, also placing a glass of water in front of her.

Lizzie picks up the fork, thanking him quietly. He movies to sit beside her, watching as she stares at the food, slowly pushing it around the plate. Her stomach churns. He sighs.

"I'm sorry," she squeaks out, not quite meeting his eyes as she turns to him, "I'm not that hungry. Just tired."

He places a hand on her shoulder, his thumb immediately moving to caress it slowly, "It's ok, I understand."

"What will happen to my flat?" she suddenly asks, voice hoarse, still fiddling distractedly with the food.

Steve sucks in a breath, moving his arms to rest his elbows on his knees and his hands clasp in front of him, "Well, some officers should be there now, working out how he got in…"

Liz feels bile rise in her throat, having not even considered that yet in the chaos of her mind.

"We will take a statement eventually, take him in for questioning and press charges," Steve finishes, resolutely. He is surprised at his own bluntness, though understands it is his way of beating down the underlying rage he feels.

If it were up to him, the man would never see the light of day again. Steve would see to it. For hurting her. His Lizzie.

"It shouldn't take long," Steve assures, believing that was why she had asked, "I can drop you back in a few hours."

"No," Lizzie almost shouts, the sound cracking. She shakes her head furiously as she drops her fork and turns to him, eyes desperately wide, "Not yet, no."

Steve takes her hands in his, squeezing, and without a thought says, "It's alright. You can stay here. With me."

She stares up at him, eyes even wider as they begin to gloss with tears again.

"If you want?" he adds quickly, unsure for the reason of such a reaction and worried he assumed wrong.

But he hadn't. To be with him? There was nothing she wants more.

She grips onto his hand tighter, using it to pull herself closer, nodding eagerly.

His heart pounds as he wraps an arm around her, pulling her into him so her face rests against his shoulder. Her apparent want to stay with him makes his chest ache with something similar to affection and relief. Though his gut twists in disappointment. Steve had hoped she would not have to ask. That her being welcome would go without saying.

His disheartedness is relieved as Lizzie's arms move to wrap around his waist, her body pushed up against his side in a tight embrace.

"That man," she clears her throat to speak clearer, "You had him watch over me?"

Steve sighs, knowing she must have seen the officer that had entered her flat with him hanging around the apartment before, like he asked, and recognised him, "Yeah. I wanted to make sure you were safe."

He pauses, choking on the words. His hands grip a little tighter to her shoulders as he shakes his head, closing his eyes as to not look at her and the injuries he could have prevented, "I'm so sorry. I should have been there. I should have done something."

"Steve, please," Lizzie whispers, her head moving back to look at him and a hand coming to rest on the side of his jaw, comfortingly. He melts into the touch, eyes meeting hers as they begin to cloud over, "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't-"

He shushes her, reaching out to wrap his arms around her shoulders and pull her tight against him, her wet cheeks pressed into his shirt. He closes his eyes as he hears her broken sigh, feeling the way she eases in his arms. Steve presses his cheek harder against her forehead, careful of the bruise there, "Let's just get you to bed, yeah?"

He feels her nod against him, his arms slowly unwinding themselves so they can stand. He holds out a hand for her once he has moved, pulling her up gently with him before guiding her to the bedroom. Pulling back the covers, he stands to the side to allow her to crawl inside.

He stands by the side of the bed as he watches her settle into it, unsure what to do with himself.

"I'll call Hastings, let him know you are safe," Steve says, placing the duvet over her as she leans back against the pillows, "Just get some rest."

She is gazing up at him, arms wrapped around herself as her head lifts slightly from the pillow.

Before he can stop himself, he leans down.

And places a quick peck to her forehead.

HIs lips linger there for a moment, careful to have avoided the bruising and to not press too hard as to aggravate her skin. Revelling in the comfortable sentiment of it.

The intimacy.

As if burned by the thought of that, Steve stands quickly and turns for the door.

_What was he thinking?_

Before he can go and take the time to regret that action, a hand gently wraps its way around his wrist, pulling him back to look at her.

His breath catches as he peers down at her, looking up at him so hopefully.

"Stay," Lizzie pleads, quietly as if nervous, "Please."

It does not take any moment of thought for him to take her hand in his and ease back the covers. With his hand wrapped in hers, Lizzie shifts over, making room for him to lie down. Pulling the cover back over them as he does, Steve makes sure to lie as subtly distant from her as he can, not wanting to alarm her or overstep. His fears of that are quashed when Lizzie uses their joined hands to haul herself closer to him, their faces only a few breaths away as they rest their heads on the same pillow.

Steve holds his breath, whether purposeful as to not make her uncomfortable over their proximity or not, he is unsure. He can't stop looking over at her, curious as to her call for contact and wary for any sign he is crossing a line. Lizzie has not yet met his eyes yet, only shifts her legs so that one comes to move on top of his. Her eyes finally flicker to his, as if asking permission to rest there. He responds by twisting his leg to wrap around hers, inadvertently pulling her closer as he does. Their joined hands lay between them, pressed up against their chests, the only things stopping them from touching as they breathe in the quiet of his room.

Steve is unsure where to place his other hand, but finds himself slowly lowering it against her waist under the covers, relieved Lizzie shows no sign of resignation. Lizzie is bolder, moving her hand carefully to rest against his cheek, rubbing the pads of her fingers tenderly against the stubble on his jaw.

The pair just look at each other. Staring. Thinking.

She knows now. How much he cares about her. Lizzie supposes she has always known, or should have. But she can see it. In the way he has looked out for her. The way he has cared for her. The way he is looking at her now.

So kind, so reassuring. Making her feel so… not alone - in the way only Steve Arnott can.

This man can be brash. He can be impulsive, and, hell, he can be arrogant. But she has the privilege of seeing this side of him too. It is what has her defending him time and time again, so assured in her view of him as the most loyal and compassionate man she has ever known. He wants to make the world a better place for everyone else, while often forgetting to include himself in that benefit. How can she not care for a man like that?

No, that sounds too simple.

He means more to her than that.

Steve listens. Even to the small things - like her mother used to add milk to her scrambled eggs, or stories about her childhood cat. Those are not relevant, rather unhelpful pieces of information she has spilled out at him. He has that effect on her. She wants him to know her.

And Steve does. More than anyone.

Not only does he listen and learn about her, but he helps her to know herself. What she is achieving, what she is worth. Lizzie spends so long trying to understand others, that it is a relief to have someone understand her. That helps her to understand herself.

He tries. After all the mistakes and the errors and the consequences, Steve is trying. To better himself. Again, he listens to her. Encourages and appreciates her help. Taking her word as something valuable to him.

And after tonight, and the way he has cared for her after… Dot, and other misfortunes -

This man has grown to mean so much to her.

It overwhelms her.

Just as it overwhelms him.

This woman has grown to mean so much to him.

When his whole world centres around lies and deceit and corruption - she is the kindness that gets him though. Reminding him of the good out there. What he is fighting for.

Lizzie listens. Even when no one else does. And that's why she knows him, better than anyone. And he wants her to. He wants her to know him as much as he wants to know her. He lets her in, without even considering it. That isn't something that comes naturally to him.

Since childhood, with his brother's apparent favour, he has always struggled to believe in himself. That needs - craving - to prove himself. That bad habit has got him into plenty of trouble across the years, recent events perhaps most disastrously.

He doesn't need to prove anything to Lizzie. Steve knows that.

She knows who he is, who he really is. And she still (somehow) believes in him.

That's enough. It always will be.

She spends so long in other people's heads, she forgets to consider herself most of the time. Prioritising others, even at the detriment of her own wellbeing. Steve can't even count all the times she has stood up for him, even against himself. How can he not care for a woman like that?

No, that sounds too simple.

She means even more to him than that.

Perhaps it was, as he told himself when his gut would twist in admiration of her, a selfish, egotistical desire for someone to fight his battles for him? Fulfilling a sick, twisted yearning for self-admiration.

But it couldn't be. Not with how much he truly does care for her. He wants to be there, looking out for her. Not that he does not believe her capable of doing so for herself, but in return for all the times she has done it for him. Sometimes without even knowing. Because that's who she was. Kind, loyal, selfless.

Seeing her today, so vulnerable and distressed, much like after everything that had happened with Cottan, broke him. Lizzie is who keeps him straight, grounded. He needs to be that for her, even if he feels as though he is going to lose his own mind without her able to assure him things are going to be alright. That she is safe.

That's all he wants. For Lizzie to be safe. Happy.

And yet, time and time again he has failed her. Even putting her in that danger himself. Disappointing her.

How can he ever repent for that?

He knows the answer.

By being better. Doing better. For her.

Steve's hand shifts to grasp tighter at her waist, pulling her, if possible, closer. Lizzie responds, moving to press their chests together, the hand on his face sliding back to gently grasp the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I am never going to let anything like that happen to you again," he suddenly declares, voice low as to not disrupt the comfortable silence that has fallen over the pair.

The corners of Lizzie's mouth turn upward slightly in a small, tight smile, her eyes closing as she blinks back tears.

Steve means it. He only hopes that is enough.

But it isn't enough.

She deserves to know. What she means to him.

 _Do_ I _even know?_

That's what the nagging feeling in his gut implies as he stares at her now, looking back up at him, those bright flecks in her eyes glistening wondrously even in the dim light.

His chest aches as he loses himself in their brightness.

There is something else. Something that has always been there.

More than care, more than admiration, more than the overwhelming compulsion to keep her safe, protected.

He tries to comprehend it, dizzying at the strain it causes.

A word flits into his mind, his heart stopping entirely as it appears - though disappears as quickly as it came. So fast, in fact, he misses it entirely.

His brow furrows so minutely Lizzie does not see it in her exhausted state, as he tries desperately to retrieve the word.

But his thoughts cease at the sight of Lizzie in his arms, eyes fluttering closed and breath softening. Steve remains as still as possible, not wanting to interrupt as she eventually falls asleep, head dropping further into the pillow beside his.

He allows himself to smile, relaxing himself as he studies the momentary peace overcoming her face. He feels himself shuffle just-so-slightly closer, recalling the feeling of her skin under his lips moments ago, and does not resist pressing another gentle kiss to her forehead.

Steve holds it there longer this time, no longer concerned of the intimacy that had frightened him as he did so before.

Something had changed tonight. Something between them, as they held each other so closely in his bed.

It terrifies him. Though, the smile etched on his face as he finally succumbs to sleep would suggest it excites him all the same.


	39. Chapter Thirty-Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!! what better gift could I give you all than a long-overdue chapter? I hope you are all having a magical day, despite the less-than-magical worldwide circumstances! I hope this update can make it a little better. Thank you to everyone who has been leaving reviews, you make my day! Any feedback would be the bets Christmas gift I could ask for from anyone who would like to take the time to! Thank you!

He had woken up at some time in the early morning to Lizzie whimpering, a frown cut across her still-sleeping features. Steve found that softly stroking her inner-arm gently with his fingers was enough to calm the woman in his arms, rather than waking her and risking her missing out on much-needed rest.

At some point in the night while asleep, the pair had readjusted so that Lizzie is now rested with her head on his chest, his arm around her shoulders and hers strewn over his stomach, legs still entwined but tighter. Steve had little heart to move her, rather enjoying the contact before she eventually awoke.

Looking down at the woman pressed into his side, he notes the way Lizzie's auburn hair is strewn across his pillow, Steve having had the pleasure of tucking a few loose strands that fell on her cheek behind her ear.

She looks so peaceful, so at ease.

It is hard, looking at her now, to believe she has gone through what she has over the last month. Steve only hopes he can help her eventually recover to this state of tranquillity when she is awake, too. It will take time. But he will be there. As long as she needs him.

Grief was a precarious thing. Lizzie had little time to bounce back after the trauma of everything with Cottan, and was doing well alongside Steve, both helping the other to heal. Then Hurrell came along and… did what he did. It still boils his blood to think of it.

He will have to face him today. Control himself. _Restrain_ himself. He wants the man to pay. But, somehow, his desire for Lizzie to recover is stronger. She is his priority.

Steve looks back down to the woman laying on his chest, his nerves softening instantly.

They tense again as his phone begins to ring on the nightstand beside him.

His head snaps over to it as Lizzie startles, sitting up straight in the bed, a hand clutching at the front of his shirt. Her eyes are wide and alarmed, until he reaches for the phone and she realises there is no danger. Steve's heart shatters, wondering how long this will last for her. He also misses the contact immediately, unsure if Lizzie had even noticed their arrangement before sitting up. She releases her grip on his shirt, something Steve attempts to feign not noticing to save her from embarrassment, and shuffles herself so her back is pressed against the headboard. Steve does the same, looking at the phone. Steve almost curses, remembering what he had forgotten to do last night, so wrapped up in helping Lizzie.

"It's Hastings," he informs her, looking over at Lizzie who sits with her legs crossed beside him, showing her the phone, "Want to talk to him?"

She shakes her head, wringing her hands together in her lap, before whispering, "Not yet."

Lizzie watches as he clears his throat and holds the phone to his ear.

"Morning, sir," he says down the phone, pausing occasionally to allow the older man to speak, "Yeah, yes, she is with me… She's fine, yeah… She's just in the shower now, sir."

Steve's eyes flick to Lizzie, her thanking him with her eyes at the excuse, not yet ready to face anyone other than the man sat beside her now.

"Thank you, sir. I'll tell her," Steve responds again, "We'll be there soon."

Liz waits tensely for him to put the phone back on the side table, and turn back to her.

"He said he wants to see you, I said I would take you to his," Steve informs, softly, "Also said he has sorted Hurrell's custody, so I am not needed at work today."

She feels her heart warm at that, hoping that means he will not have to leave her.

Steve is relieved too - that he no longer has the opportunity to lose his job for beating a man under their arrest to a bloody pulp.

"He tried calling you a few times," he explains, trying to remember where he placed her own phone. It hadn't exactly been his priority to fix the _mobile_ last night, not when Lizzie herself had been so broken, "He's worried."

Lizzie nods, unsure how else to respond to that. The older man had no reason to be. She is safe, thanks to Steve. But she is admittedly worried for _herself_ , unsure what it will take to recover from all the trauma of the last few weeks. Lindsay's death, Steve going to prison, Dot's deceit and eventual death in attempt to save her, now _this_ \- her head is splitting just trying to even comprehend it all. But it is easier not to think about it with Steve there, taking her hand as he is now and giving it a squeeze to reassure her everything will be alright. And she believes they will. They have been working through trauma well together so far. And by the way she kept clinging to him last night and the way he had assured her of his determination to keep her safe, it is not unlikely they could again. As long as they have each other.

She sends Steve's hand a squeeze back before he lets go, mumbling something about breakfast and a shower. Lizzie has to stop herself from pouting as he rises from the bed, pulling the duvet back and expelling the warmth with it.

"I'll have a quick shower now, then you can jump in while I make us some food," he suggests, turning to her before leaving the room, grabbing some clothes along the way, "How about I give those fluffy eggs another go. Sound good?"

Lizzie goes to smile, only to find her lips are still as chapped and sore as before. She tries to speak, only to find her throat just as hoarse and torn. So she nods, hoping he can see the eagerness in her eye.

He nods, sending a small smile of understanding at her lack of response but taking the permission to leave her for a moment as a good sign, before walking away to the other room.

The woman sighs, leaning back in the bed and pulling the duvet up to cover herself once more. The bed is warm, heat radiating from the now-vacant space beside her. She turns on her side, staring at the pillow-space where Steve's head had been placed the night before, recalling how they had looked at and held each other before she drifted into sleep. Surely there is no better example of what Steve Arnott had come to be for her than that.

After everything that had happened, all the nightmares and all the agony, he could calm her with a touch. Lizzie could sleep soundly, little thought of the ordeal that has transpired that would usually keep her up all night, afraid to close her eyes in apprehension of what could come next. She had not thought sleep would be likely after the attack, having not slept for more than a few hours when she could since Dot's death. The scene replaying over and over, as it was and as it could have been of she just did something different - it has been tormenting.

It was preposterous to her. That someone could have that kind of an affect - the one Steve has on her. That she could care for someone that much. That someone could care for _her_ that much.

It almost scares her. That she could come to rely so desperately on someone else to keep her sane. Safe.

She sighs, struggling to fight the urge to overthink it. She presses her face further into the pillow, pleasantly surprised to smell the linger of Steve's scent.

It makes her think of the way his hair was stood on end on one side when they woke, messy from being pushed against the pillow. And the slight squint of his eyes, taking their time to adjust to the light of the lamp after hours of darkness. It's endearing and, well, strangely intimate to see him like that. It's a strange thing to be thinking of after everything. But it is a relief.

It is not the cruel, hurtful touch of Glenn Hurrell she recalls that morning after the attack, but the soft, compassionate touch of Steve Arnott.

His legs wrapped around hers as they lay together, his arms around her shoulders as they stood in her flat, his hands as they washed her hair, his fingers as they caressed her injured cheek - his lips on her forehead.

Her heart jumps at the memory. The ghost of the feeling making her shudder...

"Lizzie!" she hears Steve call from the other room, breaking her from her reverie, "Shower's free!"

* * *

Steve has let her borrow a hoodie of his, as well as the same pair of joggers from last night as they drive to Hastings' house. Lizzie has visited the home more times than she can count, yet has never felt so nervous as they pull up outside.

It is Ted's pity she fears most. It hurt enough last time.

Steve notices her apprehension as they sit in the car, him waiting for her to be ready and make the first move to go. She stares out the window up at the house, face blank. It is that same vacancy he saw on her expression last night. The one that scares him. Her fingers are the only sign of feeling, picking at each other furiously.

He reaches out, placing his hand over them. They cease immediately, her shoulders sagging and head turning towards him.

"Ready?"

Lizzie nods, taking a slight breath before exiting the car alongside Steve and walking up the short path to the front door. She winces as Steve knocks on it. He shoots her a brief, concerned glance as they wait for Ted to answer. She ignores it.

Ted's face brightens then falls within a matter of seconds as the door swings open and he sees the pair, eyes flitting from Steve to Lizzie anxiously. He takes a step backward, allowing them to pass before closing the door, the other two hovering in the hallway as they wait for him.

"Beth," the older man exhales as he turns to her, enveloping the young woman in an embrace, one she softens into despite the bitingly pitiful tone of his voice she had feared.

Her arms come to wrap around his waist, squeezing feebly as the man shakes his head against hers, "Oh, Beth. You're alright, darlin'. You're alright."

Steve only watches as the Superintendent pulls back, holding his goddaughter by the shoulders as he looks her over. He almost wants to step in when he sees Lizzie cower under his concernedly scrutinising gaze, yet knows that is a ridiculous thought.

Lizzie fiddles with the hems of Steve's hoodie around her wrists as she waits for the older man to say something, anything. Her cheeks heat as he continues to inspect her injuries.

"We are going to make sure that _bastard_ ," Ted spits, "never sees the light of day for what he's done."

The older man looks over his shoulder to Steve, a fury creasing his brow. Steve nods in determined agreement.

Hastings turns back to the young woman in front of him, immediately softening at the sight of her timidness, his anger only making her tense more.

"Let's get you some hot chocolate, eh?" Hastings offers, grinning in an attempt to lighten the mood.

He deflates as the girl continues to stare at her feet, face blank.

Ted turns back to look at Steve, who turns his mouth upwards in sympathy before following his lead into the living room, making sure to avoid the abundance of cardboard boxes piled there, stacked with various items.

Lizzie sits down immediately, clearly comfortably familiar with the place, pushing herself into a far corner of the expansive sofa. Steve wavers, unsure if he is invited to, instead moving to stand beside where she sits.

"Sit down, lad, go on," his boss prompts, Steve nodding in thanks before taking the seat beside Lizzie, "I'll be back in a minute."

The pair watch as he disappears into the kitchen, hearing the kettle switch on.

Steve turns to her immediately, taking in a breath before reaching into his pocket, "I should give this back to you."

She looks to his now outstretched hand, her cracked phone inside it.

"It was in the side-compartment of my car. Must have put it there last night and forgot," he explains, the object still held out in the space between them, "Only a few missed calls, from Hastings and Kate, and some email from Ingrid Lovelace or someone?"

Lizzie's eyes snap to him then, wide, "Ingrid _Lovell_?"

"Uh, yeah, that could be it," he shrugs, surprised by her sudden interest and seeming panic.

She snatches the phone, checking the screen quickly...

_(1) New email from:_ _ IngridLovell67 _

… before stuffing it hastily into the pocket of the hoodie.

"Did you read it?" she almost glares at him, warily.

Steve frowns, confused by her questioning accusation, "No, of course not."

Lizzie only stares at him for a second before nodding, retreating back into the corner of the sofa. He goes to ask her what is wrong, who _Ingrid Lovell_ is, what the email contains - but the tears springing in her eyes as she desperately tries to look anywhere but his direction stops him.

 _No secrets_ , they had said.

"Want a coffee or tea, Steve?" Hastings' voice asks from the kitchen, breaking that bitter line of thought.

"Coffee, please," Steve replies, glancing quickly at Lizzie before standing, "I'll give you a hand."

As he leaves the room, he peeks back at Lizzie, seeing her reluctantly pulling her phone out of her pocket and reading something on the screen. He wants to keep watching, gouge her reaction to whatever she had not wanted him to see yet. But Hastings making a sharp hissing noise captures his attention.

Moving further into the kitchen, he sees the older man wiping up a slight spillage of hot water from the counter-top. It is rather amusing, Steve thinks, seeing his boss in such an informal, personal setting. The few meals and drinks they had shared was not quite the same as being in his own home for _tea_.

"Need any help, sir?"

Ted turns to the man, shaking his head, "Don't worry, son, I have it handled. Might need some help carrying them out in a moment though."

Steve nods, shoving his hands in his pockets as he waits for the man to finish stirring the hot drinks. He glances around the kitchen. Just as in the hallway, there are cardboard boxes littered about the place, full of utensils and ornaments and other items. Much of the surfaces are bare, the boxes likely containing most of what belongs there.

Moving his gaze to the bookshelf beside him, and the few objects that remained placed on it, something catches his eye.

A photograph.

He moves a few steps closer, not wanting to intrude but unable to let his curiosity slide. That has always been a fault of his.

In the silver frame is an image of a young girl in a dress, hoisted upon an older man's knee. The man is clearly Hastings, though much younger with a mop of dark hair and youthful build. The child is no younger than six, no older than eight. A wide, gap-toothed smile with a familiar rosiness to her cheeks and unmistakable bright, auburn hair, tied up with a green ribbon.

Steve feels himself smiling as he looks at it.

He hears a chuckle over his shoulder, turning to see Hastings also now looking at the photograph, "Hasn't changed much, has she?"

Steve looks back to the photo too. His smile falters as he thinks of her now. Sat in the other room, broken and beaten. Not quite the grinning, carefree young girl in the picture. The comment bites at him.

His heart sinks before rising again at the older man's next few comments, "She has always been like that. So bright. Inquisitive and kind. Reminds me of her father in that sense. But also has that stubbornness. Always right in the end, though. Just like her mother."

Steve listens eagerly, greedy for any other information he wants to share. He wants to know everything he can, everything about her.

"They were good people," Hastings claims, a reminiscent smile ghosting his lips, "The best."

Steve nods, assured they likely were just that. They had to be to have a daughter like theirs. So fundamentally _good_.

"Was terrified when she was put into my care," Hastings admits, "Worried I would corrupt her in some way. Fail her. I hope that hasn't come true, and remains just the anxieties of a scared, childless, old man."

Steve shakes his head, reassuringly leading Ted to nod, thankfully.

"I'm afraid I have not been to her what I should have," Hastings laments, folding his arms across his chest, "If I had, maybe these terrible, terrible things would not have happened."

Steve frowns, "I don't think that is true at all, sir."

After all the things that man has done for _him_ , all the times he has supported and encouraged him - he knows that cannot be the case for Lizzie. The man loves that girl. Steve can see it, recognise it familiarly.

"Yeah, well," Hastings shakes his head, dismissing the praise much like Lizzie would. Perhaps that's where she gets it from, Steve thinks, as the Superintendent continues, "I know she is all grown now. But she's always going to be that little girl to me."

The men turn back to the photograph for a moment, and to the smiling young girl beaming up at them.

Hastings looks to the younger man approvingly, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder, "You're a good man, Steve. I'm glad she has you."

 _I am glad I have her_ , Steve thinks aside from the surprise at the man's compliment, though decides against voicing it to her godfather (and his boss). The older man is known for his quick and often brash assumptions. That last thing Lizzie needs is worrying about him planting any of those ideas into Hastings' head. That Steve 'has' her, that they are anything more than colleagues and friends, or, _hell_ , even that they were together...

 _How_ would _Hastings react? If it were somehow true, of course..._

Steve fights down a blush as he considers it, realising this is not quite the first time the - unlikely, unbelievable - scenario had floated into his mind, disappearing as soon as it came.

But he finds himself pondering it this time, as the other man drops his hand from his shoulder and returns to the tea. Steve looks back to the photograph, a small, easy smile once again stretching onto his face as he once again observes the smiling young girl.

If he and Lizzie were ever to… _pursue anything_ \- not that there _is_ anything to pursue - what would Hastings say? What would he do?

It is hard to tell. The man often flits from one end of the spectrum to the other, without warning.

Would he be angry? Berate him and shout, like he has before. Steve shudders at the memory, and the thought of it happening again - not that it ever will! At least, not for _that_ reason. _No_.

Would he point a threatening finger, raise a menacing brow and warn him about hurting her? His little Lizzie. Beth. Not that Steve ever would consider hurting her. Never again. He has sworn to never let anything come between them and ruin their relationsh- _friendship!_ \- ever again.

Or, as Steve's beating heart would hope, would he be warm, welcoming and encouraging? Tell them he knew all along, and was rooting for them, even. Then congratulate them both and offer his blessing. Hastings had just willingly, with a smile, admitted he was _glad she had him_ , didn't he?

Steve shakes the thought out of his head, not wanting to read into that further. The now-dizzying pounding of his heart scaring him. The sight of the photograph blurs as his vision clouds, losing himself in something he tries desperately to resist.

The thought is there now. He has considered it. Given realistic fantasy to it. Listened to it. _Released_ it.

_Him and Lizzie. Together. As more than what they are._

He berates himself immediately, refusing to follow that thought any further. It has been a stressful few weeks, his mind constantly overrunning with this and that. Confusing him with insecurities and irrationalities. This is just another of those cruel tricks he is playing on himself. A punishment for letting all this happen. He only has himself to blame.

Denton. The framing. The arrest. That cell. Sam. Cottan. Hurrell. _Lizzie_.

He is spiralling again. Head spinning.

His hand comes to rest on the counter-top beside him, almost his entire weight relying on it.

Steve is relieved when Hastings calls his name, immediately silencing those familiar thoughts. He snaps his head over to the older man, vision clearing and head sobering.

Hastings smiles, balancing three hot mugs in his hands, "You wouldn't be a good lad and bring out the biscuits, would ya?"

* * *

Following Hastings into his living room, Hobnobs in hand, Steve hears Lizzie speaking quietly to someone. Moving further into the space, he sees her still tucked timidly into the corner of the sofa, her phone pressed weakly against her ear. Her eyes are closed and fingers press between her brows, as if trying to relieve some tension there.

"- really, I am fine. Just a little shaken- yes, I know," she says, tiredly, to whoever is on the other end of the call.

Hastings quietly places the mugs onto the coffee table, Steve following his lead and placing the biscuit packet down too. The older man places Lizzie's tea in front of where she sits, then holds Steve's midair, looking at him in question of where he will sit. Steve moves quietly over to the spot beside Lizzie, sending a grateful smile to Hastings as the mug is then placed in front of him.

"- I know, I will. Yes, I'm sure-"

Steve watches awkwardly as Hastings takes his seat opposite the pair of them, testingly taking a sip of his tea before deciding it is too hot to drink yet and putting it down in front of him. Steve cannot help but wonder who she is talking to, as they wait for her conversation to finish.

Perhaps, it is that Ingrid Lovell woman Lizzie seemed so hesitant to tell him about? Who is she?

"-it's just a few bruises-"

Steve almost scoffs at the understatement, his eyes quickly flitting involuntarily at the raw marks that remained violently imprinted around her neck. He recalls the other marks, too. Her arm, her leg - and those not visible. How scared she was…looking up at him so helpless…

He forces himself to look away and grab a biscuit (seeing Hastings had already done so) to distract himself. To give his jaw something to do other than tighten in fury, and his fists clench.

"-it's alright, Steve took me back to his. Sorted me out-"

He halts chewing on the biscuit, his head turning slightly to her again at the mention of his name. Liz drops her hand from her face and opens her eyes, meeting his immediately.

"-Yeah, Kate, I know-"

She says, as if answering his unspoken question of who she is talking to. Steve relaxes, though does not drop her gaze.

"-Yeah, I have a lot to thank him for-"

Steve almost chokes on the biscuit, forcing himself to swallow it. Lizzie sends him a small, yet sad, smile, one he tries to return despite the swelling of his heart and scorching of his cheeks.

Lizzie drops her eyes, continuing to speak to Kate. Steve turns to look at Hastings who is watching the pair of them with a fond smile. It grows into something more profound, more thankful when he sees the younger man looking at him. Portraying to him that he feels the same.

His gratitude. Steve sinks under the weight of it.

His eyes drop to the table, unsure what else to do other than take another biscuit. Hopefully it can overpower the bitter taste of embarrassment in his mouth.

"-we are just at Ted's now," Lizzie continues down the phone, occasionally pausing to let Kate speak, "Yeah, I'll let him know… OK, thank you for calling… Hope to see you soon too. Send Josh and Mark my love… Alright. Bye."

Lizzie ends the call, letting the phone drop to her lap with a quiet sigh.

"Everything alright?" Steve finds himself asking, leaning forward slightly to try and catch her expression.

All he can see is exhaustion as she turns to him again.

"Yeah, she's fine," Liz answers, Steve trying his best to ignore her characteristic deflection, "Thank you for texting her."

"Of course," Steve shrugs, "She would want to know."

Lizzie lets herself smile slightly at that, endeared by her friends' concern. She then turns to her godfather, thanking him for the tea which she reaches for and wraps her hands around to endeavour in the warmth of it.

"Is Roisin home soon?" Lizzie asks, curiously hopeful, taking a sip of the hot drink.

Steve watches as Hastings darkens almost instantly, shifting in his seat and tearing his crestfallen gaze away from them to the floor. His hand comes to his other, fingers playing distractedly with the wedding band around one of them.

"Uh, not until late," Ted clears his throat, attempting to offer the young woman, what Steve can only describe as, a deceitful smile. It doesn't reach his eyes.

He is unsure what the man is trying to hide, knowing only there had been a few troubles concerning his marriage from what Lizzie had rarely divulged. Seems she has been as in the dark about it as most of them, not that it was any of their business. But there is more to it. That reaction said it all.

Whether Lizzie has noticed or not is unclear, and Steve does not wish to pry or bring attention to it, making either of his company uncomfortable. But, watching her from the corner of his eye, as he seems to always do lately, the way Lizzie's eyes begin to prick with more tears as she slowly lowers the mug of tea suggests to him she can see through it too.

Hastings inhales sharply, breaking the uncomfortable silence with conversation. Perhaps, an attempt to distract them from his poor-attempt at hiding - whatever it is he is concealing. Steve is unsure what, exactly, the man is even talking about. More concerned by how Lizzie has retreated further into her seat and seems to be staring into the space in a daze. Everything else is trivial and insignificant.

Slowly, and keeping his eyes on the older man as he speaks, to not draw attention to his movement, Steve reaches his hand along the sofa. It is bold of him, he knows, to attempt to make such an affectionate contact with her in front of her godfather. But he needs her to know he is there. That he cares.

So, in a bold move, he continues to reach out, surprised and relieved to eventually make contact. Steve tries not to react as their hands touch, hers seeming to have reached out too, meeting his half-way .Both drawn by the need to touch one another, to ground with or be grounded by it.

He shuffles slightly closer, playing it off as a reach for his coffee mug that comes to rest on his lap. Their fingers finally entwine, the closer proximity now enabling them to clasp around the other's hand. They both take sips of their drinks, appearing as casual as they can despite the electricity passing between them. The relief and comfort surging through their bodies at such a simple contact.

Where Steve has moved himself, their hands are now concealed to the other man, who continues to talk animatedly about some sort of gossip he heard in the office yesterday. Steve takes this opportunity to give her hand an encouraging squeeze, one she returns immediately, with as much enthusiasm. He resist turning to look at her, but allows himself to smile slightly into his mug as he raises it for another sip.

Despite everything; what has happened, how they are, what might happen - they have each-other. And that's enough for him.

That thought - that fleeting, _ridiculous_ thought from earlier flits behind his eyes.

_Is it enough?_

He knew entertaining that thought would come back to taunt him.

_Him and Lizzie. Together. As more than what they are._

Though unsure why, it terrifies him.

But with another squeeze of his hand, Lizzie brings him back to the moment.

He takes another sip of his coffee, the smile widening now. Content.

He considers it again: that despite everything, they have each-other.

_And for now, that is more than enough._


	40. update note!

hello everyone! thank you so much for all your support, comments and messages on this fic! it means so, SO much to me!! 

I would just like to assure you all, especially those of you kind enough to ask how I am doing and encourage me to keep writing, that I have not abandoned this fantiction. I will continue, just not so soon. 

I care way too much about these characters, the story I have planned and am so proud of myself for getting it going that I refuse to give up! 

unfortunately, with pressures of ever-changing and worsening lockdown measures here in the UK I have found myself struggling to not only find motivation but the time and energy to continue for the moment. not only are things so tense and stressful globally, but I am a full-time, final year student. my university are offering little to no support during this time and so I am occupied trying to power through a degree I am caring less and less about! I am really sorry this fic has had to take a back-step. writing this fic was such a release for me and was a great way to spend my free time unwinding before, but now the pressure is pressing down harder than ever. 

I promise once work has eased and I am closer to completing my university work, I will continue with this fic! I am hoping the new season coming out soon will motivate me to keep going sooner and inspire me creatively! 

hope you are all well, safe and thank you again for your understanding and patience! I am so excited for what I have planned that is to come!


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